Saturday, June 18, 2022

Danger Zone

CR99 - for 6/18/2022 -99 words

“We’d made a promise when we were kids that we would never see each other again. Yet, here you are on my doorstep and once again asking for help I cannot imagine giving you.”

“When I helped you bury that other friend of yours, I told you that was the last time. I won’t even loan you a shovel. Now take your sorry ass and ………….”

“Wait now. Let’s not get excited. No need to brandish such a large knife. You know what? Screw that promise we made when we were kids.”

“How can I help you old friend?”

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Since Charli,the author of this challenge,  used Kenny loggins' tune, "Danger Zone" as her prompt, I will follow suit and use it here.



Thursday, June 16, 2022

The Secret of God

 The Prediction Weekly Writing Challenge

for Thursday June,16, 2022 - midnight GMT 

100 word maximum - Three words - Available, Third, Yoke

The Secret of God

Eons before any other species began to gain self awareness, our kind learned in their third epoch the most efficient method for conquering the Universe.

It wasn’t with grand, extravagant, expensive violence. No.  Cost too many lives. Instead, we learned unexpected and unseen infiltrations were consistently more successful at bringing another race or planet under our yoke.

Our asteroid will collide with Planet 13 in Quadrant 2334 soon. There will be no need to prepare to land. Available DNA strands safely ensconced deep inside this rock will ensure a successful conquest.

Patience and time is all that is needed now.

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So, for this post, I had to include two musical choices :

"Galaxy Song" - Monty Python

&

"Space Oddity" - a one off cover by Astronaut Chris Hadfield in 2013

Monday, May 30, 2022

In a Dream

 First Line Prompt- Writers Link – FB – 5/27/2022


 I’ve been here before, in a dream

But before I was here in a dream

I had never been here in a dream

I never dreamed when I was here

That here is where I dreamed to be

Dreams come, Dreams they go

But only in dreams when I wasn’t here

 

Friday, February 11, 2022

Never Show Fear

 


Should he tell his mom he heard her on the phone last night?

 Should he tell her he knew someone far away threatened his life?

 Should he run to her, grab her, hug her; tell her everything is alright?

 Even at the age of nine, Mark knew the answers.

 His family always kept their eyes dry above their stiff upper lips.

 Never show fear.

 So he held back, restrained himself; quaking and shaking under his blanket until daylight.

 The next day Mark was on a plane to Florida to join his father who had just started a new job.

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This is about a day I will remember as the first Reality butt kick I received as a child. My idyllic life to that point changed dramatically. The next four years in Florida only reinforced that Life was not just TV cartoons and comic books.

Sunday, January 16, 2022

Two fingers of Sweet Sour Mash 9.0


Two  fingers of Sweet Sour Mash

Two ice cubes in a short glass

Smokin small tokes from

My last chunk of hash

 

Punching up the playlist

Punching it up to WOW

In the mood to relive, retell

Some blasts from my checkered past

 

The here and now fades

A fog rolls in from my earliest edges

My feet begin their tap

My fingers begin to type

I shut my eyes remembering

Sleepy eyed LSD memories 

I hoped would awaken 

My mescaline infused soul

 

“Good times, bad times”

“I never know for sure”

Rockin Blues were the tunes

 shuffle your feet, juke joint funkin

Superslab shit kicking Cotton Eye Joe

Blasting loud and proud from my radio

 

Passing through the where

To nail down the when

I continue to write

Hoping my strolls down tired lanes

My moments of misspent youth

Will find my deepest darkest truths

Not the memories I usually carry

Pointing out just rose colored views

 

Two more fingers of that sweet sour mash.

Close my eyes and open my mind

My head can’t hold it all 

I need some relief, a respite of sorts

Or more of that tasty sativa green

 

Finally, the rushes begin to roll

Traveling finger to finger, nose to toe.

My hair stands on end, I raise my paws.

Butt dancin in my chair

The music washes over me

The music humbles me

As my past 

Comes back to life


Friday, January 14, 2022

Lying Truth Reborn

Lying Truth

Facts injected with conjecture and foregone conclusions,

 Cast Truth aside in pursuit of knee jerked solutions.

 Lost in a sea of deception,

 Specious goals are massaged by lying hands,

 Replacing Honesty with Truth’s ugly step sister,

 The Half Truth.

 

 The Midway Squawkers and Snake Oil Salesmen

 Insist and demand the Half Truth into our lives

 Hoping their deception lasts long enough

 For them to cash in their nickels and dimes.

 

 Assaulted long enough,

 We allow recent lies to become our New Truth.

 Delusion casts itself in stone

 Brain dead populations dance around it

 Happy as if they had brains.

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I first wrote this as a Flash fiction 100 word composition quite awhile ago. I have now converted it into a poem with some minor changes. It is no longer 100 words, it is now 99 words.

I thought given the current political moods clashing and thrashing worse than ever, re-posting it here and now might just impart how I feel regarding the current crop of leaders and their lackeys.

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So I had no problem locating an appropriate tune for this post. 

"Lyin Eyes" by the Eagles will do just fine.


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The Image at top is an enhanced photo taken in Stalingrad during World War ll. 

It is titled " Barmalej " (Children dancing around Crocodile )

Wednesday, January 12, 2022

The Boardwalk

The truck slammed into the loading dock behind Thrasher's Fries with a bang.  "Here ya go fellas, Ocean City."   

Porko and Phil grinned.  They had really lucked out.  One ride from the DC Beltway all the way to OC was as good as it got.  All they had to do now was help the driver unload 40,000 pounds of potatoes.

Just over three hours later, Phil finally located the one hundred pound bag of Idaho's finest they had been looking for.  Of course it was the last one on the truck.  Phil muscled that last bag out to the pallet sitting on the dock.  Porko was busy trying to figure how many bags it took to total 40,000 pounds.

"Let's see.........10 bags is ...uh .... 1000 pounds..... 20 bags would....................."

"Jesus Porko, you are such a dumb ass.  400 bags, you bonehead.  And since you are lazy to boot, that would mean you carried maybe 50.  I carried the rest."

Porko sat on the last skid of potatoes and lit a cigarette.  He tipped his head back and blew a large plume into the air.  "Yeah, I'm a lazy bastard.  Good thing I brought you along."  He grinned at Phil.

The driver came through the dock doors with his pallet jack.  "Last one guys."  He jacked up the pallet and swung it around.  "Give me a few minutes and I'll be back with fries and some pop.  Thrasher's fries are the best there is you know.  You guys did a great job.  I'll make it back to B-more by dark."  He yanked hard on the pallet jack and disappeared through the doors.

~*~

"You know the kid working the peeling machine at Thrashers told me he and his buddy usually get $40 each to help unload.  We got $15.  What a rip off."

Sitting on the boardwalk at Ninth Street with his bare feet in the sand, Phil looked at Porko and shook his head.

"The man gave us a ride.  He paid us, fed us, and you complain?  You aren’t just lazy, you're an inconsiderate whiner to boot."

"But $15 each?  Slave wages.   The sooner I find a rich woman ........."

"Can it Porko.   You are so full of shit."

"Yeah well........at least I'm not still a cherry like you."

"Screwin your sister don't count."

Porko shoved Phil off the boardwalk onto the soft sand.

"You take that back.  It was her buddy I nailed.  You know that."

Phil was not smiling.   His virginity hung heavy on his mind.  Jeez, he was 17 and still seducing his hand.  Phil stopped thinking about it.  He was resigned to the notion of dying at age 80 un-laid and grumpy. 

"You fellows want some weed?"

Porko jumped.  "What the Hell man?  Don't sneak up on us like that."

Still on the sand and on his back, Phil strained to see over the edge of the boardwalk. A scruffy hippy wearing blue tinted granny glasses was standing behind Porko.  Phil hopped up on the boardwalk

"Uh, sure man, we’re always looking for weed.  How much and what kind?" .

"Hold it Phil.  We don't know this guy.  He could be a narc."

"Porko, shut up.  So what if he's a narc.  It's just weed."

The hippy grimaced.  “Man, if I was a narc, would I be selling weed?

Porko considered this.  “Uh, I guess not man.  Whatja got?”

“ Nickel bags of Commercial or Sinse.  Mersh is $10, $15 for the Sinse.”

Phil and Porko huddled.  Pockets were checked.  Mumbled words exchanged.

“Look fellas, I ain’t got all day.  You want some weed or not?”

Phil turned.  “ Two nickels of Sinse.”  He reached in his pocket.

“Jesus guy, not here.  Let’s take it over there.”  The hippy nodded towards a narrow alley separating a couple of souvenir shops.

~*~

“Where the Hell did you get $50?”  Porko studied Phil’s face.

“The truck driver gave it to me.”

“He gave you $50?  What the Hell man?  He gave me….”

Phil smiled.  “Yeah, he gave you $15.  Told me you weren’t worth even that much.  But who cares anyway?  We have weed, we’re baked and we can still eat tonight.  This trip to OC without the parents is working out just great.” 

Phil passed the joint to Porko and laid back on the sand.  A wave broke over his legs, creating a rush that slowly worked its way up his spine, ending in a full body shiver.  Who cared if school started in a couple of weeks?  Who cared what happened tomorrow?  Tonight he was free and stoned.  Life did not get any better than this.

Phil turned his head toward Porko. Porko was holding the joint and staring at it. He was not smoking it.

“Damn Porko, if you ain’t gonna smoke that doob, don’t Bogart it. Pass it back over to me asshole."

~*~_____________~*~

The Boardwalk – fictionalized memoir from 1969 - @ 800 words

A tale that is mostly true. Expect "Part 2" at some point. Those 6 days were full of seminal moments.

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Of course I can't forget some music to help set the tone - The Drifters',  "Under the Boardwalk"  will do just fine. Enjoy!