Wayward Bound Or: a warped piano accompanying an epic f@%king poem. (Cluster one, of five.)
(Call me little horn!)
I wish I was a poet... Looking up at the Spun Sugar (The shade of clouds of the near dark) Whistling some bluegrass tune, as my sweetheart cooks our supper (Some slow cooker chili with jalapenos and banana peppers shore would hit the spot).
I wish I was a catfish swimming through the outer dark of space eating the light and swimming in the abyss. While space pirates dance in their shuttle craft with the naked women they have "liberated" as the carrier they attacked is set ablaze from the inside.
...The maidens are never to be seen again...
I wish my bones to be picked clean by some prehistoric critter... that I may be devoured... that the loss of my life (through one hell of a struggle) would leave me content despite the meaninglessness of the pain. Because I know in my heart that things worked out.
I'm too tired to be optimistic
But lived enough to know
It's a thin line between being jaded
And
Realistic.
Madness is the most sincere form of flattery.
I don't know who I am but I am confident I will find out.
(The guy has his own theme song.)
Burning up the night sky as he rode a shooting star bounding across the madness in a wild magnificent leap with a glowing green flame like the devil riding a dream.
"Yippie ki-yay and abracadabra! All across the midnight sky!" Screamed the Yama-Yama Man.
The shooting star is bright with five points straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon. With a jack-o-lantern smile and the glow only stars can have. His legs Wrapped around it like it was a wild horse and he trying to break its spirit. The star screamed like a dial-up modem trying to connect to the inter-web.
Burning wild in its descent. The fire burning green and insane at the crater where it crashed. The flames danced and tickled at the Yama Yama man. He smiled with the flames without sound but the cackling of the fire. For the Flames did not hurt him...
He was wearing a yellow clown jumpsuit with blue cotton buttons. His face is white with makeup. His eyes are glowing red... A cylinder of a hat hanging sideways on his head pointing like a cardboard birthday cap.
He stood in the fire unharmed nor distracted only warming himself in celebration of the star's death.
(A tale of two Piggies)
The guinea pig is a social animal.
Some are Fed salads, hay (both to help with digestion and grind down their teeth), and pellets (for Vitamin C)
Others... are locked in a barn and cared for just enough to stay alive. They are bred for food.
it was the worst of times...
it was the best of times.
It was a friend and memory for life.
it is what is for dinner.
(Two interpretations of what it means to be whimsical)
The skeleton man named Little Horn was waiting for the sunrise.
He was dressed in a purple-fur-trimmed green and yellow suit. If it was the psychedelic 1960s he would be thriving. His head a jaw-less skull enclosed in sludge a little horn protruding from his forehead.
It is 20XX on the Cricket island, in the October-Archipelico. The stars are still out. Clean with the ocean bouncing and crashing onto the rocky coast. The near black and white contrast of the deep blue and sea foam.
Meg Mable Mystery starts a pot of coffee. measuring the water with the pot and pouring it into the machine. Then scoops four tablespoons of ground coffee (scraping the spoon level with her index finger). Then turns on the machine.
It gurgles as it heats up to start the day. The drip coughing with steam.
"Good morning." Said Meg.
"The sun-kissed hello to you." Said Little horn
Then he tipped his head gesturing with a hat that was not there and reached for his tobacco pipe. Stuffing it with cherry chocolate tobacco.
"That stuff smells like carnivals." Said Meg.
He said nothing lighting it with a match and stoking the pipe under his upper jaw. inhaling into the black sludge that held his bones and kept him moving though he was neither dead nor alive.
The sun started to shine on the horizon the lighthouse alone the automated light turning off. The Island barren but for the rust and junk that Layabout.
"You got any writing done?" Said Meg.
"Here and there, spurts and fragments." Said little horn.
"Well, I got some coffee going." Said Meg.
Little Horn smoked his pipe.
If I could pull a cigarette out of the air.
I often dream of having a superpower.
in my feeble mind, I would pull a cigarette out of thin air.
"what? you need a smoke?" I would then reach out into the empty air and pluck a smoke.
it would be from the void. a supernatural gift. Breathing fire until the disappointment, when the doctor comes out and tells you "It is cancer".
(The ship of Theseus)
A Dreamcast light glowing in the dark
Theseus was a good kid. He did not stand a chance in the grand scheme of things. Though I will reiterate he was a good kid.
One arm was gorged by a wild boar. It had to be amputated and so it was with only a left hand, that he walked his own path.
He fell in love with my wife.
Wrote her bad poetry and tried to steal her away.
Thank goodness she couldn't stand his writing. Theseus looked like he stuffed a potato down the front of his shorts. My name IS Little Horn. I have a need to work on my confidence.
I came up with a plan of sorts I told the kid "If you can kill the minotaur. I will give you an evening alone with my wife to see if you can win her over."
That is what started this trembling journey of terror. Today I find out. Did the little jerk kill that abominable beast? Or did the labyrinth spare at his expense?
"A price that wasn't paid," said Meg.
She is smiling with a satisfied look on her face (I already know how this story ends).
The labyrinth is more than a metaphor. It's the shelves of the library you found this book on. it's the digital shopping cart with which it was purchased. It's the smile on my wife's face as she tells that young buck "Everyone else has had a piece of me I don't see why you shouldn't."
I am passing the time.
I am finding myself alone in the drunken shadows of the night.
thinking about youth... and how fragile masculinity is.
...And most of all how happy she seemed...
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