Tuesday, August 25, 2009

“I’m a detective!” I said...

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The detective is defective,
“So long ago I have changed,” I said.
It was a stormy afternoon, flushed with anger and gravitational screams that echoed from ear lobes to the mouths that captured its air. The puddles had a depth that can swallow a whale and my shoes were crocodiles with their fangs facing a foot ahead of me. I had entered a dinner the shape of a bullet, its light green outline had filled my eyes with blindness. Inside were a group of political savages that didn’t believe in tooth ferries, but believed the money that had been placed under the pillows of children, were theirs to keep. I fled through the doors as if I was a kamikaze strapped with an atomic bomb. My stomach had busted internally and all I can think of was, which way was the bathroom. Startled, the group of men without hesitation pulled out their guns. In that split second I had been erased from their image contemplating of which toilet to extract my waste into. I had failed again but the feeling of losing about 3.5 kilograms was priceless. After the thin sliced toilet paper grazed my skin I had flushed with anger, ready to get back to business. The mirror in front of me had appeared to be defective; it reflected uncoordinated hair lines across my scalp. There was no way in heaven I would appear in front of those savages with a bad hair day. Embarrassed and in control, my fingers became combs trickling up and down my scalp. After seconds past my image was of a models prospect. I had refreshed my mouth with a spray of mint. With a deep breath I had remembered all the times of preparation before the long nights that were ahead of me. It took a smile or two to regain confidence. Although I had not been fifty years of age with bowing arrows and enough power to defeat an entire infantry of 100,000 men, I felt like Rambo. In an instant, after that thought of being Rambo had escaped my mind, the walls of the bathroom started to close in, and there was only one way out. I grasped its location and fully plunged my weight onto the door knob and turned it gently. I then disguised myself as a drag queen and slowly whistled out the door leaving trails of fragrances no man can neglect. As the sky felt my presence and I was embraced by the environment outside, the savages quickly got out of their seats and continued towards the door. Outside, I was loaded with enough cavalry and fire power that can blow a hole in the galaxy itself. As soon as their outlines appeared in the scope of my trigger finger, I unloaded.
“Dead! Dead! Pow Pooww!! They were gone,” I had explained.
With a bewildered look she had turned away from my services and left the bar. At that point, all I can think of was, where had my story gone wrong?

if ever my Heart was stolen...

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Foolishly I’d thought I was stronger in every sense possible but I have been followed by strangers. Ones who were marked with deception, adultery, lament and fed up with their self image. I had intensely tried to emerge away from their shadows as they came near. Importantly enough the jealousy and hurt reflected in their eyes. They wanted something so pure and free they would withstand the utmost agony to claim it. The one thing which had followed me all my life had finally set upon my yawns and cries. Other people in my position would have fallen like the molecules that have been carried by the unwanted rain into the earth’s soul, but I wouldn’t let them take it, as war has claimed me. At that moment, control was a past tense and fear had set in. I had felt my vessels being torn apart, where pain, like a smile away from a good toast to its creator, had vanished. There was one voice followed by multiple fingers. Though my heart had an attention deficit disorder, doubtful to communicate at the time, had been aware of its surroundings. As the claws pierced my tissues and expanded them into the air, I had felt a voice scream. “I shall leave you for a split second my friend and it will last you an eternity to get me back,” my heart cried! So I cried back, pathetic and missing, bewildered and petrified. Without reaction, I reacted; acting into an image of myself I had been always craving for. An appetite that was past due; an immediate way for change had identified itself. I had picked up its wireless significance as I grabbed hold of my heart. Still breathing, the accent was reminiscent, and at that point I had felt what my heart had meant to me, in the palms of my hand. As my fingers gripped its bloody body, I had felt as a mother would, when seeing a dead carcass of her child. As terror struck my heart it had slowly took its last breath with an uncertain look into my eyes. I had now understood why this had happened, let me explain. May the heart stay in its place for it has nowhere else to go, to forget it’s there, is to forget it all. My own fingers had grasped what I had not comprehended, and had stolen it all, from me, the creator. I had myself taken out what had controlled my every emotion, the heart. For I am sorry my friend, may you accept my apologies for I will never do it again.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Dear, Silence

Sunday, August 9, 2009
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I own that I understand very little about all these details of socialism and reaching out right about now; what I know is that since the voices became quiet all that is heard is my heart. I am sure, feel that I have no desire to become apart of this let alone become it. It is no one more or less than, I, that control this. Ah, dear friend, you are fortunate to have my ears and lips, but I will own to you that, in spite of your extreme racket, my departure from your cries has been a great feeling for me. Above all, you have taught me patience and grief, along with endless nights of still air as if I have been lynched to my last breath. I know very well of your courage and commitment, your poetic and pure intimacy fulfilling so many souls, souls that grant no permission to enter. So young and burdened with this hell, to what temptations will be exposed? Mine? Do not let us seek to penetrate your quietness, for we will! A thousand thanks, dear friend, for the work you send us, and which is all the rage where you are. I have unconfined my lips and slowly entered into the terrible and scared secrets of your speechless galaxies. I know very well that, I for once will break your silence with pleasure full extremities and remedies where only letters can formulate, at this moment, some type of communication that can be watered and raised under your sun. My respects to your creator and my compliments to the silence you have distilled upon so many. But I for once will no longer embrace you as I love you, and forget your memories.

P.S.---Let us hear you.