I'm missing audio.

Still, twisting silences.

Ears bleeding memories,

My moments transparent.

It's about believing

in moments unrealized.

I cannot recreate

this dying sentiment.

She awakes magical

like daylight transcending.

I whisper gratitude,

lost between syllables.

For a syllable challenge. 3 word lines. One then two then three syllables.

If we are what we eat

then I am mainly

word

and I

though

I believe

in just desserts

I am very happy

with homecooked

verbiage...

I gather up

some thoughts

fresh like eggs

and whip up to a

fluff stiff beaten with

fork and dash of salt

peaked verbs and nouns

poured in aluminum pan

360 degrees preheated

and Bam!

out soufflé will collapse

if not eaten right now...!

Trouble in my kitchen

begins if we're

asking for something

specific.........

like god forbid

the same recipe twice...!?

You demand more deadpan

eggplant lasagna lamb...?

and suddenly I'm scrapping

bottom with spatula not

not even getting a sound,

though that is what I've

been mostly dishing out...

and now feeling queasy,

all that's coming out of the

cupboard is like Horror!!!

All gory and you think

there'll be plenty for

seconds, thirds even more

but no now I'm slicing

everything raw and real,

with just a little turmeric...

and just when you settled

back into your seat from

our necessary trip to Sonic

for something to sink two

teeth....... I'm back... to

dripping my agave and

asking how much sugar

you can take in your

coffee.....Honey...?

03.26.2023

What Food Are You? challenge @ChrisSadhill

The entire foundation for the concept of wisdom is in knowing what you don’t know. It's wisdom that tells you, if you don't know how to fly a plane, stay the hell out of the cockpit.

While I can still have a conversation about what I think it would be like to be a pilot, I can't reasonably imagine it without having experienced operating a large vehicle, looking out a window at a horizon, and having the responsibility of not crashing.

I could imagine a far off planet, but to describe the colors of horsacs or the sounds the molfors make, I could only draw from those I'd seen and heard before.

Can I write what I do not know? Sure. ¥€|¤, for instance. Ask me what that is and I'll tell you, I have no clue, but writing means nothing without actually communicating with a reader, so to truly write, I cannot share words to which I do not know the meaning.

Bring them.

Bring them,

...one by one

Every day.

Every day,

...stem by stem

In your teeth.

In your teeth,

...step by step

To my feet.

To my feet...

Oh, confounded, just come empty handed!

We'll pick dandelions from the cracks

of the walkway out back,

And toss straight water from the tap,

If you'll only wrap yourself around

these wilted shoulders now,

And let us bask...

01.30.23

Please Don't Send Me Flowers Challenge @Finder

Please, no flowers.

Gift me instead

with a multitude

of love's trinkets,

Bestowing them

Until they fall on me

Like pellets of soft rain

in spring.

Please, no flowers.

Lean close to my ear

and whisper words

most dear instead;

they reveal the depth

of the love you feel

and make me shiver

to my core.

Please, no flowers.

Instead, scream your love

to the rainbow filled skies

and our love will soar

free and high

like a flock of birds,

until it reaches

the soul's shore.

Please, no flowers

even when I pass

forward from this life.

Instead, release me,

and continue your ascent.

Flowers will always be trivial

amidst our fields

of enduring love.

I asked politely. You were deaf to entreaty

I begged. You believed in the rule of exception

Please remember what drew you to me

I thought you knew me

Thought I could depend on your rationality

Why? Is it so difficult to admit, I'm allergic

Absolutely every kind. I know your scientific mind

can't fathom, but I can't live on Reactin

Please, don't send me flowers again

Please don't send me flowers

killing innocent vines

for a love you know I've forgotten

Please don't send me flowers

I've moved on

the address you've saved outdated

Please don't send me flowers

it hurts to see them die in vain

I could travel for days on end

I could take my time across every bend

Yet, despite how long I may take

I see this man, for goodness-sake

I would return to the aged counter

Allowing the stool beneath my weight creak

Softly shifting the contents in my cocktail with the flower

And shift my gaze to the figures that'd come in that week

Upon a ceramic saucer, two honey rolls

Arranging them absent mindedly, allowing the weight to tilt the plate

I'd take note of the trip that bore holes

Before directing my attention to the tender who was allowing his mixer to shake

Despite the fact I'd regularly binge my drinks

I figured I'd only have a single glass and then hang

But when this man walks in, it shifts how anyone thinks

As this man would stumble about, sitting abruptly with a bang

When he sat, my gaze shifted downward

Watching his blubber crease against the table, a little awkward

I hadn't a clue of his plan

All I could think was "How curious, this man!"

He wore shades that covered his eyes

And an un fastened suit that barely scraped his thighs

His hair, a mangled kraken

And his speech, slurred a-somethin' forsaken

To the tender he would babble

in a very lack luster way, more akin to a gabble

And his request at the end, he requested a drink

And the tender's answer, what do you think?

With a shake of his head, he denied him in cold gale

Unamused by this tall tale

Very abruptly he stood with a wail

As every time he came in, this story would fail