The Predator

All right, it has been much too long since my last post, and I sincerely apologize to my avid readers, (all one of you) but I'm trying to get back on track.

365 Days of Creativity

day fourty

The only thing less settling,

than my cursed indecision,

is my new naivety-

my lack of self sufficience.

Never have I wavered,

faltered, frayed or fled,

but in the strange new circumstance,

my diamond nerves are dead,

More solid than the mountain

and vaster than the sea,

my rock hard resolution

has yet abandoned me.

The more I switch and falter,

the more my patience dies.

I can't stay calm or civil,

when there's fire in your eyes.

And thought they burn as bright as blades,

I do not feign away this gaze

for I deliver no less heat-

worlds collide when our eyes meet.

The strangest day has yet to come

for when you look upon the sun

lakes will burn with fields of clover,

a ferocious man, this supernova.

With wicked smiles

and vicious tongue,

the panther waits, and bates for fun.

An onyx cat from darkness came,

with blazing eyes and ashy mane,

lips tossed back, a hungry grin,

embodiment of lust and sin.

He runs on waves of death and soot,

Killing babes dropped underfoot,

I find myself clutched in his jaws,

He's saved me from those poison paws.

Sugar Skull

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty nine

Crushing Dragonflies to Dye My Clothes

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty eight

The corpses of ladybugs crunch beneath my feet.

Shattered wings and soiled blood,

and mysteries beneath.

The azure of a dragonfly,

crushed up into a paste.

I wear the hue of stolen lives,

they compliment my taste.

In my hair I tie the wings,

of butterflies, delicate things.

Woven braids of gossamer,

nothing so quaint, do you concur?

The apple of a fallen tree,

lands far from where it ought to be.

Even ants dare to be bold,

when mother nature takes a hold.

The secrets that this lady keeps,

why crickets cry and willows weep.

I borrow all the colours of,

miss nature's unrequited love.

The ladybugs I stomp and shatter,

crimson shells, on lips they flatter.

The dust upon a bumblebee,

I brew each day to make my tea.

Though I steal from crystal clouds,

I practice grace, leave with a bow.

For when the world comes crashing down,

it's mother earth who wears the crown.

Ambition

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty seven

Ambition

dreams cast tempting nets.
webs that pull and catch
ambition kills reality,
we take what we can get.

but not one thing can satisfy
when humans get the hungry eye.
ambition is a faulty lie
no hope or need to try

the want for more disguised as passion-
filthy, dirty deeds.
ambition is no great romance,
it’s nothing more than greed.
the notion is a nasty dance,
devouring sweet dreams.

cannibalize and terrorize
the hopes of fellow man
nothing can survive itself
when cat devours lamb.

nothing tempts more hungry souls
than a helping hand.
the man who aids another,
lays buried in the sand.

the eagerness of selfish bliss,
we call hard work a virtue,
but ambition is a fickle friend,
it’s greed can only hurt you.

Despair

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty six

Hope or Despair

Mise-en-scene is an expression used to describe the design aspects of a theatre or film production, which essentially means "visual theme" or "telling a story" - both in visually artful ways through cinematography and stage design, and in poetically artful ways through direction. 

The Jackasses

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty five

You've got your poker face,

I've got my icy ways-

What a pair of jackasses we are.

We toss and turn,

Rattle and burn-

Neither one willing to lay down their cards.

You bluff, I cheat,

Together we're beat-

But nothing can touch us when we are apart.

As singles we stand,

Both aces in hand-

Our dignity's stab like poisonous darts.

The deadliest team,

Love wolves don't scream-

They stalk and they prowl, shades in the dark.

I bet and you raise,

The battle of days-

What a pair of jackasses we are.

Candy Land

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty four

I paint my eyes

so I can see,

the world as I

want it to be.

There's nothing deadly as a virus,

but for an onyx circled iris.

I wish that I could dye my skin, 

and flavour everything within.

Cinnamon heart,

vanilla lungs,

chocolate bones,

strawberry tongue.

With painted eyes and flavoured skin,

I'll sink inside my tasty world.

Come visit me and be my sin,

And I'll be your strawberry girl.

Solitude

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty four

Solitude

The thoughts I hear are not my own.

They speak of pain and twisted bone.

A memory of false risque's

echoed lives

and made up days.

I can't recall this life I've lived

Is it true or it is myth?

The voice whispers,

tells me to cry,

urges me to rot and die.

I can't give in,

words of my mind.

That place is dark,

and I am blind.

Though deaf does not ail me the most,

the sounds it brings, lips of a ghost

These notes are those, bid me ill will

they want only, to make me still.

Alone is when the spider sings,

spinning rhymes and sticky things.

Alone is when I flay my soul,

razor blade my self control.

Escape does not come cheap or free,

though you may want it desperately.

The cost of leaving your own thoughts

will leave you broken,

half distraught.

Abandon hope of getting peace,

when demons visit in your sleep.

I Came From the Shadows

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty three

Fiddling in photoshoop

A Hangover Sunday

365 Days of Creativity

day thirty two

            The buzzing blared its way into my dreamless sleep. Alarm, snooze, repeat. I cut it close today, but dragged my ass out of bed. I pulled on clothes and put up my hair. No time for a shower so I looked like a photocopied version of myself from the night before. A thin layer of sparkles still dusted my chest, and I retraced the eyeliner that had faded in sleep. Classy. No time to eat so I grabbed bread and eggs to cook at work.

             I raced through the side streets, waking up the 'burbs with the sub in my car. If I have to be awake right now, so do you. I parked the car out back of work and slummed my way up the stairs. The stench of stale alcohol hit my nose and I held back a dry heave. God damn bottle recycling is kept outside. After successfully stifling my gag reflex I pushed into the staff room. My well stained apron slumbered in the locker. Two tums and a cup of OJ helped me prepare for the long day ahead. 

             I spread the toast out over 30 minutes, so I didn't shock my beer-abused stomach into showing it's inner self.  One customer, a regular. We spoke of movies and tv shows. Another customer ordered a beer at 10:30 am. I served it with a ten foot pole. Then nothing. I stood around and massaged the crick in my neck for the better part of an hour. Made an omelet with the eggs I brought. An inch away from taking a bite a group of seven walked in. 

            Big groups are generally good for business. They drink more, eat more, tip more. Not these guys. And why? Oh well they just happened to be from Kelowna. Because I really needed to be reminded of that city today. I served them quickly and hid in the back to eat my food. I zoned into the eggs and the onions and peppers and thought nothing of the town I had quickly left, or the boss breathing down my spasmed neck. 

           But as much as I tried to get lost in the cheddar cheese, my thoughts kept getting coaxed to Kelowna. To the people I had left behind. To the places I hadn't seen in months, voices I hadn't heard in weeks, faces I would never see again. Suddenly I wasn't so hungry any more. I was thankful for the lack of customers, even though at the end of the day I made only 16 dollars in tips, an insult. 

           I drifted through the day. My mind wandered the empty streets of Memory City. 

Hungry for sleep that I can't have, I let myself rest while others talk. The sound of a voice that isn't my own is more comforting than any bed. I crave noise. Not words really, just the waves of volume that engulf me and remind me that I'm not alone. Music, movies, traffic, rain. The proof that the world is real, that things keep moving even when I'm not. That the world will go on even when I'm dead.