Poems and Quotes

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Fri Jul 29, 2022 10:20 pm

(reserved for "I Got Your Back".. Odd Tales From A Life I call Mine)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Names of individuals mentioned in this published book has been changed to respect their privacy. Any descriptive relation to other possible individuals; alive, dead, or resurrected , imaginary or real.. is purely coincidental. The particular style of narrative language used in this thread post is a literary vehicle of mine that I hope the reader would enjoy in coming along for the ride. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly moments which speckled my life like seasoning to an otherwise savory dish.. adding character and flavor.
......................................................

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(KINDERGARTEN EXPERIENCE): Kindergarten was pretty nice. Basically it was simply "day care" with an educational story or two thrown in. Sometimes there would be numbers and the teacher might say, "John, this is the number '3'. It's a 'good' number, it wants to be your friend." At which point John would walk to the teacher's desk and she would hand him a twelve inch laminated number '3'. He would then take it back to his little desk and wonder what he was to do with this strange new friend. Was it the kind of friend he should introduce to his mom? Would it also like ice cream? (should little Johnny now have to worry about his ice cream?) Or should he set the 'number 3' free somewhere outside to be amongst it's own kind? These are the sort of unanswerable questions which come to a kid in kindergarten. After the teacher had given out all of her good numbers (1-9), no one ever asked if there were 'bad' numbers to stay away from. If numbers 99 and 87 were hiding under bridges ready to jump out and scare everyone. Or if the police department knew about them and would be on the lookout for suspicious looking numbers in the playground area. So many unanswered questions i had during that whole pregrade experience.

Into this institutionalized 'day care' experience, Bob came into my life. He had spiked blonde hair, and a warm genuine smile that would light up any room. He was immediately the best looking guy in class, Bob was THE MAN (which was odd that I was starting to notice a difference between the genders). For the few months he was there, he made friends easily and was generally well liked by everyone. For some reason which I didn't understand, he liked being around me, I made him smile. Of course this led him to also build me a house out of cardboard blocks which another kid ran through pretending to be a bulldozer. That architectural work, bob had carefully created, lining up the corners 'just so', making sure the side walls were perfectly straight. All of which took 10 minutes, but was now everywhere underfoot. Bob stood there with his hands out in apparent shock.. 'the humanity'. I just laughed and went back to my desk smiling. Bob tilted his head sideways looking at me and was probably thinking, 'just no figuring out women.' The following week the teacher said that this was Bob's last day in class as his family was moving. The day went by as they always had, except on that last day Bob took me by the hand and led me around the room trying to find privacy. He first tried another cardboard block building but again it was knocked down by the bulldozer kid. Then Bob pulled me by the hand toward the restroom (was occupied). Finally giving up, he simply kissed me and told me that he really liked me. And.. he was gone, forever. Now it was just me, the bulldozer kid, and a bunch of uncoordinated funny looking people with whom I was sharing this institutional experience with. Well, it couldn't get any worse (it got worse). So long as I could count on story time, my afternoon catered ice cream beak and my one hour nap time (gone, gone.. so gone). I would make it through this and one day soon (actually it took 12 long years) I'll get out and be free (not really). A 12 year sentence with the bulldozer kid, instead of Bob..

\(O_o)/ I'm so screwed.
......

(A GRANDMOTHER REMEMBERED.. IN MEMORIUM):

(Okay.. getting this thread back on track after that brief divergence)

Scanning along the far horizon, at the clouds above a landscape of red and orange. The little girl could find no visible sign.. that she was in the middle of a warzone. It is autumn. Most of the leaves have already turned from green, to yellow and orange, then on to red as the sap is drawn down into the root system in preparation for winter's hibernation. In the distance, birds of prey are lazily drifting on the last of summer's thermal updrafts, gaining altitude in order to spot their next meal.

Sitting near the edge of the bluff, the little girl hears the growing sounds of crushed dry leaves, someone approaches. Keeping her eyes forward, she takes notice of when the footfalls stop just behind her. The empty silence of this serene refuge is broken by a labored voice, one which she has grown accustomed to in her young life. "It's difficult to believe that this place, that we.. are a part off this war that has been going on for quite some time now, isn't it Salem?" ..No answer. A short moment of silence falls between them before the girl speaks up. "How, how did this all start anyway? Why were we even included in this war..?" The weary figure behind her steps forward and makes a place to sit beside her granddaughter . A brief breeze picks up, the dry crisp leaves rustle like an organic windchime. Sitting close now, she reaches out and lightly grasps hold of Salem's hand. The little girl looks up, the passage of time ever more showing through the wrinkles on her grandmother's kind face. "There are things unseen in life, Salem, which we have to accept on faith. There is someone after you. They want to not only destroy you, but everything good which could come from inside of you. Their kind is behind every prideful heart, behind every fake smile, behind every broken promise. I have fought the good fight, in wanting to protect my family from them.. to protect you. My strength is leaving me, and I have but little left now." The grandmother eyes soften, looking upon her granddaughter . Her wrinkled spotted hand gently tightens it's grasp on Salem's small unmarked hand. Salem looks up and a small tear forms in her innocent eyes. "Salem, don't be like that. You know that we each walk a difficult road. But it's one which leads to a wonderful place, where we would be joined again with loved ones who have gone before us. In time, when your own walk should come to it's end. I will be there waiting for you, with open arms and a strong joyful heart. Death is but another journey we all must take, and I am not afraid because I have no regrets, other than leaving you here." The grandmother reaches over with her other hand, and wipes a tear running down Salem's cheek. "My life, I do not count as my own, so I am not afraid of when the end comes. Since I was a little girl, a little older than you are now. I gave my life to the Lord and trusted that He would watch over me and my family. We are ever in His caring hands, and our needs in life are known to Him. I just wish, that I would have a little more time to spend with you. To help you to understand why it's important.." The grandmother's eyes turns downward at the daisies near her dress. She gingerly breaks the stem of one and brings the daisy to her nose, taking in the scent of the soft petals. She then passes the daisy to her granddaughter to hold. "These flowers, I've liked since when I was little. They're not fancy or prideful with thorns like roses, just simple and plain like me. Still.. I think they're quite beautiful." After leaving the fragile flower in her granddaughter's care, her wrinkled hand then rests upon her lap. "Remember Salem, the choices you make in life.. must be in a direction which is simple and plain. Like stars in the night sky, our good deeds live on to brighten the lives of others. And people's selfish deeds, is like the black night sky which stretches from horizon to horizon, so much darkness in the World." The long moment of silence followed. "You have a natural gift for humor and a caring heart, which had brought me to smile quite a few times when I was feeling poorly. Thank you, for that. You're.. different than what I would have wanted, but you're sweet and people will be drawn to trust you. But I see a bumpy road ahead for you, because of it. I guess that's just the direction the wind is moving this World deeper along into. Whatever you carry on your plate, always be true to yourself. Never stop caring for others, and helping them to smile." Facing forward, she looked across the serenity before them, the mountain tops and the valley below. Another moment of odd silence fell between Salem and her grandmother. In the distance, the horizon seemingly is ablaze with fire as the last of the sun finally sets low giving way to the oncoming of nightfall. Above them now, stars begin to appear in the sky, piercing the deep violet veil of evening sky. Like silent reminders that they would never be alone in darkness. This thought, strengthened Salem's heart, and his small hand tightened around that of her grandmother's. Salem would never need to be afraid of being alone. She would look for the one her grandmother trusted in, and things would be okay. But at this in time, Salem just.. didn't really know where to begin looking, as the World seemed a really big place and the night seemed quite dark. But one day, she will find Him, and things will be okay. Above the treetops overhead, a lone shooting star streaks through the darkened sky as if a mighty fiery finger had swiped from horizon to horizon. The grandmother looked on at the remnant of the shooting star, the ionized trail dispersing into the upper atmosphere. "I believe that when we leave a place, part of it goes with us, and part of us remains. If ever you need me.. come back to our place here and you will not feel so alone." The little girl took in a deep small breath, looked down at her small shoes, and tried to be strong, to be her grandmother's little bear and not cry. Salem felt safe there under the stars with her grandmother. A woman who had been through so much in her own life which weighed upon an already heavy heart.

She passed away a short time later, and we buried her next to her husband. Her date of passing, being a few years to the day she lost him. His absence having left an emptiness within her heart, yearning to be reunited with him one day.

Without anyone to really share my thoughts with, on that level.. my small world now seemed all the more empty and alone. Little Salem.. err I, really missed her, and would for some time to come. This special moment in the story of my life, I leave as a memorial to her. Her name was Willow, named after an old weeping willow tree when she was born, and her passing was remembered with tears.
..........

~ The School of Hard Knocks ~
-by Salem Moses, wallflower

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After Salem rescues her younger brother from the high school Girl Gang.
A group of outcasts who wanted to play with Gib and didn't take well to "no".
Their leader steps through to the front of the gang and says how Salem
would never be accepted as one of their kind, she's an outcast for good
reason, and that she's nothing but trouble. "That's our opinion"..
Salem keeps her back toward the leader and slightly turns the head
to address the leader "Opinions are like nipples.. Everyone's got them".

(..still adding content, as my life journey continues)
Last edited by Salem Moses on Mon Aug 22, 2022 5:57 am, edited 7 times in total.

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Fri Jul 29, 2022 10:23 pm

(reserved for.. something)

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 3:20 am

~ Another Day In Paradise ~
..an impromptu prose off the top of my head
-by Salem Moses, Research Archaeologist

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Scene: Bus Stop, background rain as thunder can be heard in the near distance.
Salem asks the indirect question phrased as a comment (in reply to the cat "Claire"
asking her what she would give up if it meant protecting her family):

"I never really had one of those growing up. I don't even remember what my
father even looks like, though I do vaguely remember his presence when I was
very young. Adopted sister with issues of her own, no friends, no neighbors,
and a withered old indian woman who kept the wolves from our door."
Claire: "..wolves?"
Salem: "..figure of speech, relating to starvation during the bleak winter that
was my childhood."
Claire: "What of your father?"
Salem: "Provisions would show up on the old woman's doorstep from time to
time. Things I would need, nothing of what I would want. One cold
morning before daybreak, the old woman opened her door to the sound of
crying. Sitting atop the small wrapped bundle of yearly provisions, was a
baby boy soaked in his tears. He was included as a provisional need, to
strengthen me. Like I said earlier, my brother has issues all his own."
Claire with her head cast down as if in slight irritation:. "In all that breath,
was there nary a reciprocating response to the question."
Salem: "I'm afraid there is no answer that I can give, as I myself have been
asking that very same question most all of my life. The old woman would
tell me that if I ever wanted to know what my father looked like, all I need
do is look in a mirror. That if I looked deeply enough, I might even see..
my mother. But that mirror cracked a long time ago and no longer held
answers for me, only false reflections amid the shadows. I think sometime
during my childhood, the old woman must have turned senile. So I stopped
pestering her about my father, and took each day that came as another
burden to shoulder as an extended life sentence. Life was no 'fairy tale',
and I never found a 'happily ever after'. So if Fate were to deal me
another hand than the crap one I was dealt, I would give her a crooked
smile and bet it all on the long shot. Just to see her squirm for once in
my life, as I try and bankrupt her."

The very large cat spirit simply stood wide eyed staring blankly as it rained.
"What if the answer.. the entity of Fate or even Destiny herself, wasn't hiding
in the shadows all this time, but were the shadows themselves?", said Claire
about the answer being more dangerous than the question. A whole person is
one who has resolved their opposite. This is why there is a very strange
association between what is perceived as good, and what is perceived as naught.
Because in the grand stage of life, an element of trouble has to be introduced
into the narrative. There has to be the shadow. Because without the shadow..
there can be no substance. And a book without a story, is one that is never read.

Salem simply stood under her umbrella staring blankly as it rained.
Cats hate the rain, almost as much as Salem has now learned to.
Last edited by Salem Moses on Mon Aug 22, 2022 5:07 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 3:53 am

~ Why NOT To Pick Up A Stranger At A Bar ~
-by Salem Moses, who does not drink.. unless it's coffee.

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Man approaches woman sitting on a barstool, leaning heavily on the bar counter.
Woman notices man, looks up.. then down to his shoes, then up to where his
eyes would probably most likely be. Takes in another sip of encouragement,
and opens up with both barrels, "It would be a tale of reckless love, painting
the town a lovely shade of blood crimson red. Yezh, I got washed out of life
and ended up on the wrong side of heaven. I always liked to play with fire..
That's something you probably would need to know about me. Knowing the
risk, do you still wish to pursue this most dangerous game?"

At this point, the man has been gone for some minutes and the drunk lady
at the bar begins to wonder why there was no retort returning to her..
as she still looks at the empty spot where the man had just stood.

“Ceux qui font les aimer à moitié ne font que se creuser un tombeau”
(Those who make love half way only dig their own graves), said the
drunk French lady as she raises her hand to order another, only for her head
to hit the counter with a deepened "plunk" sound.. blissfully unconscious.

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 4:11 am

~ A Consensus Of Minds ~
-by Salem Moses, curfew breaker

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Under the circumstances with the time constraints we are facing?. (*long sigh*) Your choice
of a champion seems the only real workable solution to the coming crisis that we have left.
(Another's voice): Given as how our hopes had fallen short on the other version meeting our
expectations. (Yet another voice): He cannot be controlled. (First voice): They have always
been problematic due to certain personality disorders. (Former voice): He's a berserker, a
wildcard, they cannot be trusted with a scope of this magnitude. (Third voice): The path we
must tread is clear to us, sisters. Let us invest all of our remaining resources toward this last
one. May our efforts stem the ferocity of what is to come lest all become lost. (2nd voice): We
must hurry, the last grains of sand are to slip through the hourglass of Time. (1st voice): Yes,
time is of the essence. Though I am given to ponder another perspective.

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 4:31 am

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Continuing the Titanic theme..

(Listen to "Comme La Mer" audio by Bronswick)
((French for "Like The Sea"))

Under a clear moonless night sky where the stars overhead sparkled like diamonds, a Englishman meets up with a young foreign borne woman who trembles not from the winter chill on the open shipdeck, but from something quite different altogether. He clasps her cold hands in his to warm her in a respectful embrace. Then as her head rests upon the chest of his jacket, he spoke as to drown out the fear lingering in the air of the night, as she quietly listens.

"To my fated love. My whisper of a dream of what a true miracle would seem to my heart to be like, if that miracle were you. You are my heart song, you are the wishful prayer of the woman that I could never bring myself to ask for in prayer because I truly would feel that I could never deserve someone as beautiful and wonderful as you. The thought of you, will always dwell in my heart as a silent wishful prayer. As someone possessing kindness and grace who would be my best friend, and ever my destiny. I always saw you from afar, from across the room or up on the balcony, and my heart would leap each time. I could never bring myself to say hello, yet I always carried with me a letter filled with hopeful words from my shy heart. Alas, I first thought my destiny to be cruel, but then by accident you found me, and my letter.. and you saved me from that moment on".

Her thoughts calmed somewhat, the depth in his words seemed to again resonate within her, and she smiled in honesty toward him as his words continued. "I am sharing this memory with you to bring comfort to any fears you may have.." He hesitates, difficult to breathe as his throat tenses with a blend of great stress and ongoing sadness. He must be strong, for her sake as her eyes begins again to fill with tears from hearing the heartbreaking screams and sobs surrounding them. Placing his palms on her tear-stained moist cheeks, the tears forming are then gently removed with but a stroke of his thumbs. Then to refocus her back onto his steady voice. "No, keep your eyes on mine. There you go, that's it."

The man forces himself to smile pleasantly even though his own heart is breaking. "I want to do what is proper and respectable in the manner that pleases you. I cannot describe without tears welling up from deep inside and not be able to contain this feeling.. You possess my every waking thought and linger yet more into my dreams. Your eyes, the soft tenderness of them, are like small portraits of your heart that you offer me". Now, she slowly and with difficulty, swallows her tension to clear her throat. Her glistening eyes lower somewhat to gather the words to best reflect her soul at this precarious moment in Time.

She then slowly raises her now determined eyes to meet his as her fingertips traces his cheek, his chin, the curvature of his lips. "You are such a romantic, I thought that men with such romanticism had long since died out, but there was one more, and he is you. Your first letter.. I did not feel so many emotions for a long time! Maybe never! I could not believe that a person like me, real and sincere in my words, can be loved by man like you! And at the same time I could not believe that your letter was really about me! It's too subtle to be true!! I get excited when I realize that fate has brought me with you, you are gentle and sensitive, you are a man of art. And in this we are similar! From the very first words I feel awe inside.. This is my soul shaking with ecstasy at now to be in your sight!! Every time I read your letters, I'm overwhelmed with emotions. You make me feel these emotions. You make me feel alive! Your joy is a beautiful composition! It's incredible!! Throughout the hour I enjoyed reading them, your letters. My heart was full of beating, calm and at the same time trembling. I felt the musical beating of your heart! And it was unforgettable... I was very lucky indeed, in finding you those few precious days ago, when we.."

What words she would have said fell silent as a great metal tearing sound engulfed them. Steel support girders having broke loose from incredible strain, hull plating buckles, as the ship tears itself apart. Wood decking bends then breaks like so many toothpicks sending splinters flying. An ocean of hopeless screaming amid sobs and cries, dwindle as working class passengers jump into the icy frigid waters below. Their bodies to join those unfortunate ones already adrift on the waves, lifeless. The ship is sinking even faster now, so little time left. Precious, priceless seconds pass between the two of them as they stand under the stars, on the same deck and spot where they actually first met, only a few days ago.

Now, to rekindle their last moment, she spoke again from her soul, "My beloved, how can I not understand what currents of emotions sweep through your heart? I would catch myself these past few days, thinking of you. I would think of you as often as I laugh, smile, and rejoice with truly feeling alive. You have settled into my heart, to become my happiness. I beg you do not need tears, I really do not like when a man has tears, although I understand your heart in this. My soul also reaches out to you, like flowers stretching forth on a cold day toward the warmth of the sun. What I feel for you, will warm me beyond this moment, until we find ourselves on the other side.. in heaven. Just please, when the moment comes, keep your arms around me.. whatever happens, and don't let go".

Slowly as the ship turns on it's side and takes in the last of the ocean to send it fathoms below to a watery grave. With his remaining breath before those waters took them both further under with the ship. He wanted to encourage her one last time. He tightly embraced her lips with his as he gave all within his lungs to her so that she might live a little longer.. for she was his everything. He then holds her tightly as if his failing arms could keep the cold of the whole North Atlantic from piercing her clothes to qwench her heart. Then intangible fingers of the cold, dark abyss claimed the remainder of his strength as they both entered eternity, in one another's arms. Among the myriad debris floating up to the surface from the deep, included a single life preserver ring which had on it's surface the markings, 'R. M. S. TITANIC'.

(the end)
......

I stood before the lighthouse at Peggy's Cove (Nova Scotia, Canada), lost in thought, with a deep restless incomplete feeling (after paying belated respects at the Titanic Cemetery, where too many headstones carved with only a number in remembrance.. no name, no family. That epitaph alone was saddening). It was as if my own heart were joined with those kindred spirits, adrift precariously upon those same disquieting ocean waves in a vast emptiness of existence. Looking out that day, the Sea seemed so alone, so quiet. But under that calm reserve, I understood there flowed strong warm life bearing currents to remarkable depths of being. Just like me.

In memoriam, , this was a true stylized story.. of me, as were the soulful words spoken.. by him. But alas, that was another place and time. To have experienced the flowering of one’s heart toward another, then for fate to steal that breath of life from his gentlemanly repose.. too cruel indeed. That is all that I have to say about that.

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 4:51 am

~ The Power of Friendship ~
-by Salem Moses, Creative Writing For Halloween

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Friday, February 18th.. Sometime in the early afternoon, the 1st Grade teenager left the class to go outside the building. Her younger friend and classmate Willow.. following behind. The teenager instructed little Willow to remain where she was, to bear surviving witness to what was about to occur.. should something go wrong. Fifty more feet, did Willow's friend walk safely from her stationary spot on the cold snowy ground outside of class. Not sure why she was encouraged to tag along, Willow watched unsure footsteps fall heavy to the ground, slow then stop. In the cold Winter's silence, only her friend's back could Willow see. not the lone tear which rolled down a gentle cheek. The teenager then placed her left hand over the enchanted leather bracelet bearing the word "hope", and muttered a single word. Before Willow's unbelieving eyes, her longtime adolescent friend disappeared as a monstrous form now rose from her place.. a powerful black dragon. Unsure body movement adjusting to the new form, seven appendages instead of the prior four. Gaining a sense of it's footing, the dragon unfolded it's massive wings and struggled to lift itself from the snow. High in the air, it then flew around the school building as innocent children continued in class as little lambs. Stand, unfurl, lift, fly, turn.. the basics took root as roughly as a newborn to driving a tractor. To test it's strength, the dragon landed heavily near the forest and reached for a random tree which was pulled free without much effort, roots and all. Throwing it a great distance, the dragon simply blinked at where it disappeared over the far hill rise. Again to stand, unfurl, lift, fly and turn.. the dragon returned to it's lone witness who stood frozen on the snowy ground, still awestruck in disbelief. After meeting the ground more proficiently than before, the dragon moved it's left claw hand to it's right wrist, touching upon a technomancer's dangerous experiment and whispered a heavy breath. Before little Willow's eyes, the once powerful dragon shrunk down to be replaced by the lone standing figure of her classmate and friend.. whose name was Lint. Pocket lint, from her mother's pocket.. became the name chosen for her on her birth. Not figuring her to become anything of worth in this selfish world, as her face bore too much the look of genuine kindness. Lint covered the charmed bracelet beneath her sleeve cuff, and turned back to face Willow.. who could find no words to fit this experience. After school let out in the hill surrounded hamlet, Lint drove the wagon with the two of them back to the castle where evening farm chores awaited the both of them. Finishing early, Lint made use of her newly discovered teleport ability to travel the great distance to a far northern province to visit with her mother, the natural manipulator. Correction: Mother.. the seducer of all things male. To which after the briefest of reunions, the mother would request of a neighboring northern dragon to teach Lint the ways of combat.. in becoming a protector. To safeguard the colony of Haven.. which was only of a small village of immigrating Atlantean survivors, from more powerful beings who would no doubt take notice of so strategic a location. Already a report was provided the castle lord of a being trying to break through the dimensional membrane of reality directly above the floating island, but was pushed back at great struggle from angelic beings who watch this region of the earth from outside incursion. Others may yet come, domestic tyrants and spellcraft skilled threats.. news of which already have heard the tale of an undefended valley, on a floating island some five miles above the dominion of mortal man. Whose small village of pacifists would most certainly fall prey as to know enslavement and regarded tribute property as spoils of a new class of war. No, Lint had to get stronger.. the choice wasn't truly born of her timid preference, but was demanded by those whose lives she held near her heart. Willow was left at the castle to share with the returning lord the events of the day.. but this was somehow already known. After patiently listening to Willow, and interjecting details here and there.. the lord sought the scribe who then passed a thankful wax sealed letter to be delivered to the town's fortune teller. After which a search went out for anything which could aid in defending the floating island, be it spellborn or warrior.
Last edited by Salem Moses on Mon Aug 22, 2022 10:23 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 4:57 am

~ Ruined Is One Who Doth Aid Unconditionally ~
-by Salem Moses, prognosticator

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And as an albatross hiding in plain sight, is the celebrity of wide renown among
the noble hierarchy. Now an aged woman hungry for coin to float her shredded
pride and abate pending starvation. The local lord, unable to stomach what his
heart could not bear, provided her labor to assist in farming the weekend on the
floating island to prove herself worthy of staying. Chance to wipe clean the slate
and leave the past buried behind her to start life anew, as her plight here should
never be known. But then those whose debts are bought by deeper pockets, tend
never to stray far from their designed intrigue.

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Salem Moses
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Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Mon Aug 22, 2022 5:47 am

~ BEWARE: A Scary Story.. Visiting Mother ~
-by Salem Moses, Creative Writing For Halloween

Warning: Story May Contain "Spirits".. if you believe in them

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Monday, Feb 7, 2022 (visiting.. mother)
Heavy footsteps climb concrete steps to mother's front door, which is a cabin larger than my own.. in the woods. Silence fills the air as my hand reaches for the doorknob.. locked. Tender knuckles impact the weathered wooden door in password fashion unique to me. A soft crash, pause then shuffling sound inside slowly travels to the door as it unlocks and opens. In all her accumulated cloths she wears, and a gnarled old stick which bears her weight as she walks.. my mother. In short time I find myself on an overly cushioned chair by the fireplace as she brings me her latest creation from the kitchen. Flatbread with a menagerie of vegetables & meat atop of it.. served on a flat pan which is severely dented upward like a metal taco. The dish.. she calls pizza. Poking at it here and there, I would not wish to disagree with her on her own familiar turf, so pizza and conversation it is. She sits down across from me and updates me on the other members of our family. The oldest, my sister with the pretty blonde hair, has been called away on business for specialized training.. to be up in the air of a night. The youngest, my little brother who is the more flamboyant of the personality group, has taken a recent interest into beef cattle. Specifically what is being offered at a popular franchise burger chain which just opened up in his local area, to much fanfare by crowding muggles. Mother tells me that she is faring well these days, no new pains or irregular bowel blockages to report (says this just as I begin putting food into my mouth). I share my own depressing daily life.. how work is killing me but still pays well. "Marilyn declined my job offer for managing my art gallery", I finally let the words come out between pepperoni bites. Mother looked at me in query, "..Marilyn?". I raise the oversize cup of milk (it's really a soup bowl with a handle but mother hasn't realized this yet) to help swallow her pizza. "Yes.. you know, the one from California." "..Oh", was her only reply, whether she knew who I was referring to or not. I then began a brief recounting of the bullet-points of the evening, "I asked the magic shop to provide a way for us to meet me after work to go out for a burger & shake while I pitch my job offer to her. An opportunity for her to get out of the house, that sort'ov thing.

(stuff happens)

Now in my garage later that evening, Marilyn was prompt to say that she must decline my offer, that she wasn't the right fit for the brand.. I was given the impression that a celebrated movie star was not the right choice to manage a tiny invisible gallery in a no-name town (Bringing a sense of culture to rural Americana is so difficult these days). So she packed up her shopping bags and left back to California through the vortex which had opened for her between the two old oak trees. I sighed.. a few times, got out of the car and walked a long path to visit my mom.

Sitting on the cushioned chair by the fireplace, I recounted this whole story to mom and wondered if James Dean would be available? Mom put down whatever she was busying her hands with and offered me a question, "What is the requirement for a person to manage your art gallery?" (perhaps she was becoming interested in a higher form of distraction as a hobby or side-job?) I swallowed the dryness down in my throat with another sip of soup sized milk. "Dead, the person who would manage the art gallery would need to be dead." The half chuckle mixed with the look of disbelief was all the response she offered me. I picked up a black mushy mass of blackness from my taco shaped pizza and asked her what this thing was that looked like black moldy fungus. "It's mushroom, I picked it out myself", she replied. I looked at it suspiciously, then plopped it into my mouth and couldn't really tell a distinct species but a mushy blandness that reminded me of the fleshy underbelly of a mushroom cap. This was, of course, followed by the rest of the questionable pizza and washed down with milk.. that didn't taste spoiled today. And now that I think about Marilyn's urgent desire to return home, I'm beginning to sense she thought I was hitting on her.. alone in the car with me.. in the dark of my garage.. just the two of us.. girl talk and all that. Just great, now my milk developed that sour aftertaste.

Side note: Mom is great, I'm just expressing my unique talent at seeing the world in a negative shade of blackness. My gift to the general subscriber population of nobody-in-particular, I guess. :-)

In leaving mom's house I looked up and saw a cloud front moving in to blanket the night sky, though a few stars still struggled to shine through. Mom came out and said, "see there.. that's a ufo". "No mom, it's probably the blinking running lights of an airline"...

(*sigh*)

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Salem Moses
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Joined: Thu Apr 14, 2022 1:50 am

Re: Poems and Quotes

Post by Salem Moses » Tue Aug 23, 2022 4:27 am

~ April Deadline Is Just Around The Corner ~

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