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 Feb 2019
eileen
Some nightmares are so vivid
they follow you into reality
10w
 Feb 2019
Napolis
Living in

her shadow

over forty

years have

gone by.


But I still

remember

her **** rule

as if It

were yesterday.


Mrs. Satterfield.

my fourth grade

teacher

at Lincoln

elementary

in Lynwood California.

.
and every

now and

then when

I think about

her. I feel

a need

to straighten up

my posture,

turn in

all of my homework

on top

her cracked

and peeling old

wooden desk.


spit out

my gum.

and look

to the

nearest

clock,


and count the

minutes until

lunch or

when I

get my release

to go home.


"no

gum chewing

allowed!" I'm

certain

it is on

her head stone

somewhere.


but I am still

much too

afraid to

go on

a little

escapade  

to look.


so I sit

still.

very still.

waiting for the

bells of

independence.

from Mrs. Satterfield"s

fourth grade

class to ring

in my head.


sometimes it is

almost like

I never

left.


sometimes

I can see

her looking at

me from across

the room.


and sometimes

forty years

later, bless

her soul


she smiles.
 Feb 2019
Pagan Paul
.
The future was heading its way very fast,
it pondered the alternatives.
It could gently levitate
and reveal its magickal powers.
But now was not the time.
Not quite yet.
It relaxed, in the way swords relax,
and waited for the drop,
a tune humming along its full length.
Tension just a distant memory.
Its point tipped over the edge.
It fell,
in the manner of magickal swords.
Gracefully.

The waterfall felt the ripple of enchantment
as the iron thing crested its … crest,
and failed to plummet.
That disappointed the waterfall.
It also felt the girl,
in the swirling flow on the edge,
fail to catch it before it fell.
It 'heard' the naughty words
and the scream …

… she had screamed
as she lunged for the sword
and missed,
the Poet had been unceremoniously
ejected from her pocket
and disappeared over the edge.
So Jerrica screamed.
She didn't know what else to do.

Kelm was stalking fish.
They hadn't been hiding in the river
so they must be in the trees.
He had his catapult ready
and maggots to fire at the fish.
Then he heard a scream
so he started off towards it.
He saw the girl staring in horror
and then she bolted off.
Down the side of the waterfall.
“What the hell are girls for?”
he wondered as he wandered off.
He decided to go and hector Bruce.

They had abandoned ship.
Well, jumped barrel.
And now they had gone awol.
But the author didn't care
about a couple of slap dash bit parts.
He hoped the Troll had got them.

The sword floated serenely.
Mattering not in the slightest
that the water was vertical
and flowed quicker in that direction.
Then it felt a jolt,
a ripple in its pond of calm.
It was slightly amused
as something grabbed its hilt.
And held on.
It felt the panic, it felt the relief.
Then it felt … a connection.
Something tingled along its length.

As his tiny arms clutched the sword
a wave of dread passed by,
waving at him with a sharp smile.
A wave waving in waves.
The Poet considered the images
and clutched harder
as nausea also comes in waves.
Instead he thought about physics.
How could it be he fell faster than
an iron sword?
And how was it possible
to slow descent to a mere saunter?
Most of all he asked
“What does this all over tingling feeling mean?”
A barrel plummeted by
too fast and too **** close.

Kelm was exploring
and had found the tiny bridge
upstream from the excitement
and was poking about,
as is the want of curious little boys.
Thats when he found the clay doll.
Ugly in a crude kind of way.
He wondered if dolls could swim
and attached it to his fishing rod.
He dunked it.
Like a biscuit in tea.
The result was a sticky mess
so he threw it in the river.
He made a decision and wandered off,
he was going to look for fish nests.

The Troll was confused.
He had accidentally discovered Hide and Seek.
But didn't understand the rules.
Morfine and Choklut were hiding
and he was out of ideas.
A fairly normal state of mind for a Troll.
And now his body was dissolving.
He remembered his doll familiar.
It must have got wet.
And he was fading out of the story.
“Goodbye reader. Thankyou for knowing me”
he says with a regretful voice.

The astonishing thing about light
is it stops you bumping into things.
And the sword was very light,
as the tingling pulsed through it.
It did not bump into the boulder
at the bottom of the waterfall.
Rather, it slid gently
into the middle of the large stone.



© Pagan Paul (10/02/19)
.
Part 3 of 4
.
 Feb 2019
Lawrence Hall
For Young Artists, Musicians, Scientists, Poets, and Philosophers

Be strong in your Pixies, for some will say
That you are wasting your time on fantasy
When you should be laboring hard all day
As servant to some old master’s machinery

Be strong in your Pixies, yes, even when
You are all grown up, and have a great career
Dream still again each magic forest and glen
And keep your Pixie-knowledge close and clear

Be strong in your Pixies, and sometimes glance
Back to that moonlit realm, where Pixies dance
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
 Feb 2019
Ciel Noir
I have too many thoughts
I have too many feelings
I can't sleep
When I wake up
I will be a stranger
In a stranger world
 Feb 2019
Napolis
Don't pretend

to be an angel

fallen.

or a star

lost in this

black velvet

night.


I trusted you.

you mistrusted

me. and now

our lives lie

like marbles

rolling in

different

arcs

across your

bedroom floor.


unrehearsed paths

racing each other

to nowhere

imparticular.


emotional outcasts

thrown from

our brief existence

to love's oblivion,


with no

future and

barely a past in

sight.


And in the

morning  light

we are not

what we intended

nor promised to

each other to  be,

we are so

much less.


clowns with masks

broken in two.

rainbows only

bleeding black

and white,

shadows of

what we

used to be ,

seeds never

taking root

in love.
 Feb 2019
Lawrence Hall
I regret to inform you that I am terminating
Your employment with my computer.
Several months ago you began failing
In your duties; your performance was poor
And sometimes you left work without notice.
Last week you didn’t show up at all.
You refused to be repaired and you refused
To be re-installed, and so I am letting you go.

This week you have taken to sending me notes
That you are the default program and wish
To resume your duties.  I must tell you
That I have hired a Mr. Freeware, who
Shows up every day and does the work well.
Not only does he work, he works for free.
I would not have met him had you not failed,
And so, you see, it’s really your own fault.

You need not ask for a reference.

Sincerely,

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
 Feb 2019
eileen
sometimes I'm bored
not feeling it

so close in touch with death
I still think no one is watching over me

sometimes
I hear this song
he knows the one
goosebumps
or is it the air coming in from the high windows

calling over my sadness
I was happy
now my smile is losing its charm

sometimes
I wonder where we go
where we are
where we stay

sometimes
there's no meaning
at all

now

finding myself
fast approaching death

sometimes
all we need is a day out
to remember we're not alone

look everyone breathes in the same air
!

sometimes
you just need to hug a pillow
stop thinking
sleep away
 Feb 2019
Eliot York
that i've been reading your poetry
(on the new front page)
and,

I ******* love
your words; your worlds;
it's like i'm,
    there. right there,
with you.

you see, i didn't do what you do--
         write my story aloud
--when i was fifteen, or even twenty-two

just an inch off the ground
                        i confided in clouds
stayed lost (was a puff too proud)

that was then, sure, but even today
   (it's 11:11, now)
putting any of it down
committing to this word, not that
this sentiment,
      not that
this meaning
       (and not simultaneously that)
              is walking through fire

and so, for leading the way
           let me just say,
                       i love you

and please,
don't ever stop.
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