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'Acquiescence' Bring me vellum and charcoal bold Then lay awhile in tepid light Humming and winking Fresh and naked as ...

Friday, May 31, 2013

Talking to God in my Pajamas


Me: Pinch me if I'm dreaming, but you don't seem to be doing so many
Big World Events, Like in the Bible.

God: Hummm...

Me: You know, like parting the sea or huge plagues and the like. Exciting stuff like the Great Flood and Tower of Babel type retribution events.

God: Well yes....

Me: See, I know many examples of whole nations gone awry, vast groups of people who seem to defie the life style which were exampled in your teachings.

God: That's so.... would you pass the marmalade?

Me: Well I thought you might be thinking about doing one of those great apocalyptic deals again, to show your disgust.

God: Well I just can't do floods again. That thing in New Orleans, not my fault, you really can't save a sinner once you have drowned em. Pause. . . . .
Your coffee is cold...there it's hot again. Pause. . . . .
Ahh... a sacred image on toast?

Me: That didn't impress anyone. The face on Mars had great potential, something like that...

God: I'll take it up with the Big Events Committee, run it up the pole, K?

Me: Right, sounds good. Oh yeah, those pajamas were a gift...

God: I know.. I'll drop them in the mail. Thanks for breakfast, be seein' ya!

Me: Say "Hi" to your mom for me. . . .


Tuesday, May 28, 2013

The Fire Within







If broken hearts can mend,
who will do the mending?
once broken
are they not more fragile,
or less so?

Toward a mindful life we bend,
and who shall do the bending?
once bent
are we not inclined,
or broken low?

Afar, our aspirations rend,
wherein can we render?
Hearts will ply
and onto such as you and I
a love may grow.

Should not there be a fire,
so who will draw the light?
But still
a fire burns so bright,
or fully, consumes our souls.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

The Sapphire Princess




When round in the Moonlit mist of May

Mid woods and in shadows long and gray

Shines a twilight mist all pale and plenty

As the Sapphire Princess slips down her Moon gantry


To dance with her court in a fairy's foray

And celebrate summer in advent sashay

Festooned in presque' flower and scented trimerous

Their fairy recital resounds with a chorus


Spry foot, hand in hand, the dancers all circle

They'll ply for her favor, bedeck her in tendril

She'll titter and wink, her suitors she'll nuzzle

Aroused by dandelion nectar, and truffles


Whence all in such fashion attentions go absent

Inconnu might steal up to glimpse on a moment

The petite exhibition, while cloaked in low branches

But, concealments no safety at May Fairy Dances


When daylight returns, the fomenter can't transient

With bark on his limbs, now a tree for a spirit

Bright days and long nights, he'll pay for his spying

The moment was stolen, come spring he is pining


For May's Moonlit dances and the Sapphire Princess


Saturday, May 11, 2013

"Time Punk" (part 4 cont. from "Nobody Home")





   Hellooo Anthony! I am just posting this to say, I won't be coming to work, EVER! Oh, and to tell you I won't be returning the Centrifuge either. We are fine and dandy right where we are. You see the land of the past is not so complicated, as we had imagined. Well digressions abound, one of the drawbacks of visiting previous times, past tense becomes so confusing. I can hear myself like a plaintive echo. Parenthetically, I bore myself constantly as a result. All seems so trite to one who has visited an anomaly such as times and places. As for the past, it works nicely once one comprehends the limits.

So, from now on I am in control. You shall receive communications on your cell or here on my blog. I am posting my observations and a few snaps like the selfie you see there already. I took the liberty of housing the Centrifuge in an old rail car, don't worry, I didn't mess things up this time. It was headed to the bottom of the bay and I just love the grand interior, (more pics of that later). The deal is we can go any where with tracks, and pop up or down from that platform...soo groovy.

Well these are my conditions, you will accept them as you have no choice. Ha ha, blimey, I love doing this to my old professor! 


First; you must stay out of the past for the present, break that rule and you, your family, whatever you hold dear will change in a heartbeat and there's nothing you or anyone can do about it. Every Time-jump goes through all the parallel layers like a flash bulb going off, so you can't be missed. 


Second; I will visit from time to time to see how the research is going. I think we want to attempt a wider swath of visible zone integrity. Oh yes, you probably had not theorized the limits of the spatial element. The Centrifuge is capable of reassembling only a limited parallel of visible space due to the size of electron charge. So that is what you will be working on now, I believe the answer lies in a larger ion redactor, but that's your department. 


Third; neither you nor any of the government meddlers are allowed in the RTC (reverse time-continuum) this is an absolute rule. There is no violence, death or illness here and I intend to keep it that way. It is a magical ride that gives me eternal bliss so do not mess this up!

So Anthony, I had to remove myself to a safe place. I expect you are wondering, “what was that all about?” The phone calls, the drama, so dorky. Well, my younger self, made too many mistakes. All the jumping I was doing ran the risk of too many of me popping up here there and everywhere, likely has to do with the infinite parallel mirror imaging of the photon laser. You get the snippet, I think it can result in dragging a parallel subject from one's recent past, so embarrassing. Oh don't worry I left him on a plush island that won't be discovered for two hundred years after he dies, I can be so stupid in some of my earlier self’s! God I hate previous duplicity, such a whiner, my later self is much more refined, you engender that I am sure?

Pshaw, now I am much improved on reassembling previous events. Care to discover who committed an unsolved crime? More on that.......Oh, Gawd! I am as bored as a drooling glitch zone. They do happen you know, dreariness can be oddly appealing, compared to the uninhabitable past. 


Hey! Did I tell you that everyone from the past is like a slo-mo shadow, you can only see through blue lenses? Pretty gnarly daddy-o! I believe their forms leave an electron path that exists after they move on, crazy wild, Anthony, hey, behave and I might just pop you down for a visit, since BTW, I just last night, popped your girlfriend down, she really digs time punking, and I really dig her!. Tah tah!



Saturday, May 4, 2013

"Hitherto, Minds" (a 3MF entry)






Upon hearing his name for the first time, coming out of the coma, Bascomb was confused. Both his mother and the doctor repeated it continuously as if it alone contained the magical curing power able to return his brain to lucidity.

“Bascomb!”

“Bascomb!”

“Bascomb!”

He pondered the sound but for some obtuse reason his brain seemed to settle instead on “button, button, button! That and a craving for something for which he had previously called beer.

Hitherto, minds such as his were the most taken for granted element of a young life. Now the underappreciated activity of simple synapses and their logical firings would determine whether or not he would cradle his unborn child or even direct his fingers and arms to simply strike a match, or play pull-my-finger with his firecracker nephew.

Tubes ran into his limp extremities and monitors, arranged along his bedside  whined and beeped his present condition. One showed brain wave function, while a notable activity persisted there, his family had been warned, that it might simply be a reaction to pain. The morphine was gradually being reduced to trick the chance of a wakeful response and learn of possible brain damage.

For three days he had teetered between the land of the living and the micros wherein lay the living lost. He alone knew where he had been all these weary days and nights. Pure exhaustion carried his mind through a mental parallel to see the trace physique of those about his youthful purpose. Harmlessly bumping into the thoughts of the unemployed actor who cleaned the room with a swivel mop and weighed his shaky career while sitting on the foot of the bed and sipping from a silver flask.

Pale light of morning allowed him the opportunity to see his doctor massaging the shoulders of the ward nurse as she wept over the legal papers informing her of her husband’s demand for divorce.

In that period as his wife stood nearby, he learned his child was male and had all his toes and fingers. But the thing that constantly played along his mental path was the feel of the little girl, while in his arms. Her cold skin clammy in his hands. How still and lifelessly she had drooped in his grip. Struggling to revive her, without hesitation, tossing off the gloves to help make tight, mouth to mouth followed by chest compressions. He felt certain there was a pulse before he gave her over to the cops. His brain tightened again and again on her gentle fingers and rich dark eyes that seemed to reach far into dark infinity. Deep and consoling, now she tried to comfort him.

“It’s not so bad. I already have new friends,” her whispers seemed to fly into his languid mind. Her coaxing smile seemed irresistible.

Now his EKG raced wildly and the doctor called for a nurse. His eyelids fluttered, spine arching in grotesque pain, eyes rolling back, he blacked out from the pain in his charred hands.

“Increase the morphine drip!” He heard the doctor tell the Ward Nurse. His mother sobbed and backed out to give room to the staff, knocking to the floor, a flowered plant and bumping into the unemployed actor, who stood just outside the open door. His mind was wrapped with the thought of how he might play the fire fighter hero in the movie version of the story and how it might make a better role if he did not make it.