slicing the surface of your sun kissed
face, i used to nurture each grain and
crevice that decorated your profile,
now i have created the insecurities
that dig through your hard skull and
crumble your layered state of mind,
only for me to sell your pure love
to the fairer man. at the time your
prostituting was said to bring me
wealth and status, but i now sit here
in shame as you have been *****
beyond repair. although i deserve
not a gram of forgiveness, i hope
my patriarchy and greed does
not undermine my apology

-t.m

Yesterday I headed west
I left the sea      gulls behind me
they cried    so did I
something strong was calling
me home   where sacred stones
are planted strong
with words carved deep
inside my heart
I'll plant lillies   lay a rose
tell my Mother   I am home
and my brother  and Dad too
I'm glad to see    they aren't alone  
as I turned away
I heard a bluebird say
Son, don't you come to stay
too long     for this earth is cold
when the winter comes 
the ocean's now your home
go breathe that warm breeze
until the sun no longer shines
and the eagle flies   the gulls
no longer cry    then you'll know
the time has come   for you
to climb aboard and sail away.

Comprehend this rainy day, take it in, I can wait.
Soak in the water like a sponge, that's been under the sink for far too long.
And you look so cold and lonely
It's so unfair that a soul so pretty
Has to be alone in the ice cold air.

So hold me in the pouring droplets
Squeeze me hard I might embrace it
When you hold me close I feel less naked
Just promise me that you won't ever fake it
Staple my head to your pretty smile
And I might just stay a while
Place your hand on the dial turn it up so we aren't dandelions
I'm the sea and you are the sand where we meet

You and I are here, in a sorry situation
With all these limitations.
Our first world dream is nailed to the ground
Like we are on probation
The officers took us and they chained us under the nations numbing ideologies
Like all those witches in the town of Salem
We are the monsters that didn't even get a chance
To have our first dance

Its like music. The intro to a song.  The way the intro captures the creation of an emotion.  It feels the same.  It sets the stage and tone of the the emotion engine that is about to drive your soul to another place..

The blue star colored energy mist itself around me.  It connects itself to everything that is me. To my soul, to my mood, to my memories, and to everything that I love.  I then feel a beautiful surge of energy travel through every cell that makes me alive, every nerve that makes me feel, all of my beautiful memories that make me smile.  I aim myself toward the stars above, or the deep blue sky.  Once I have absorbed all the star blue energy I star leap out of the earth and take flight among the stars.  I take flight to destination FOREVER...

When the Last War began
It had been 15 minutes since the first missiles were launched and NY had no warning before it hit, entire blocks were obliterated, debris, brick, and stone mixed with flesh as horrified onlookers had only a second of recognition, before they too were nothing but melting skin, then ash as the radiation spread like a broken dam. A firestorm consumed all in its wake and deaths sister continued to rain down poison and rattled the earth in the aftershock of devastation.

New York City, Los Angeles, and Washington D.C. had been hit only minutes apart and the smell of fire and blood filled the rubble-strewn streets, those that did not perish instantly were killed by flying shards of glass, metal, and other projectiles. The smell of burnt hair infiltrated the nostrils of the soon to be dead as veins and muscle were ripped from the bone in an instantaneous flash. The screams caught in the throats of the victims stopped before they disappeared into flames.

Not one, but four nations had launched missiles in response to the sanctions, the isolation and tightening the noose of the military to strangle countries considered to be the "enemy," by the US.

But Trump's inner circle had miscalculated, the military, his advisors with all their combined minds never truly entertained the idea that Russia or China would attack and were confident the might of the capitalist US and its military would always prevail.

Russia, Iran, North Korea, and China had long been secret allies, laid their plans and patiently awaited the day when the US could no longer hide its intentions and made no effort to do so, openly challenging territories of other nations, promoting economic terrorism, backing extremist rebels and destroying governments. as they pleased and with impunity.

The lack of, "freedom and democracy," were frequently used an excuse for the invasion of unfriendly countries, along with the seizure of assets and resources, strategic position, or refusal to use the currency of the United States.

So they fired the missiles and dropped the bombs. The people of all nations had depended on their governments to use diplomacy to negotiate the differences that were the basis of the conflict. They never expected a real nuclear conflict to occur until it came as deaths face to their door, like a flash of red light before the darkness claimed them.

And so the last war began.

My first try at writing a short story

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby May 5, 2018.
All Material Stored in Author Base



All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby May 5, 2018.

In our small little peaceful village North of the mountains.  We found a new way to live. We got away from the Red voice army and made a new life.  We all lost someone to the R.V.A.  They were ruthless and wanted everyone and everything for themselves.  They overthrew all governments of the world 50 years ago.  They had super advanced weapons and just a group of them could take out an army.  

They called themselves the Red voice army because of a certain weapon they use.  It is a sort of mini rail gun the emits a powerful wave of red energy. The sound it makes sounds like a wicked scream.  What ever the red energy passes through will leave behind only ash.  Nothing has been able to stand up to it.  None of them can be killed because of a strange suit they ware. No bullet or explosion can break through their suit.  

It was a beautiful April day. It had stormed early this morning and now the sun and raindrops color the grass.  One of the new villagers who arrived a month ago was walking alone in the grass.  His name was Dalis. He stood 6'11 and must of weighed over 280lbs.  He was one of the best builders we had. But kept to himself.  A group of us went down to the river to collect water and and hopefully catch some fish.  It was then we heard the red scream.  They had found us!  

Everyone in the village was at a panic. There was no where to run.  They had us surrounded.   I looked toward the fields and saw Dalis. In front of him were 2 R.V.A soldiers.  I then saw a red flash and heard a red scream. Dalis had turned into ash.  

They gathered us all up.  Deciding who would die and who would serve them.  The old folk were going to be the first to die. They only wanted young bodies to do their labor.  They lined up all the elders. Pointed their weapons.  But before they could fire, a blaze of endless lightning danced around the fields.  Strange thing was there was not a cloud in the sky.  The lightning was coming from Dalis's ashes.  His ashes begin to glow blue.  And in a magnificent flash of blue light stood Dalis.  He wore a strange beautiful blue armor.  There were red screams everywhere. All the R.V.A soldiers fired their weapons at Dalis.  But had no effect at all. Dalis walked toward all the soldiers.  He then held his hand toward the sky and a bolt of lightning struck it leaving behind a lance made out of lightning and some kind of metal.  He killed all the soldiers in an instant but left one alive.  He told them to go back and tell the R.V.A that he is coming for all of them.  The soldier left running!

Dalis, He came from the lightning.  Or from somewhere else.  There is no more R.V.A.  Dalis made sure of that.  We are at peace now.  We never saw Dalis again.  But the lightning storms remind me of him.

They called him Sol. Sol is spanish for Sun.   He was called Sol because on our darkest hour he made the eternal night into day.  

They came to our planet and darken the skies with their megaships.  All key cities were hit all over the world first. Destroyed by impossible walking death machines.  No one was left alive.  They attacked in such a pattern that it would stray the remaining people alive toward a destination where they could be exterminated all at once.   In the flat lands of North Texas we could see them all coming in our direction from all around us. As they got closer we could hear their footsteps rumble like thunder.  It would not be long now. Everyone started to say goodbye to eachother.  

I had my eyes closed tight. I did not want to see my end happen.  But under my eyelids I begin to see red.  It was the sun above.  It shined brighter than ever before.  The sun seem to be coming down on us slowly.  It was a man in beautiful strange armor.  He then unsheathed to magnificent swords burning with blue and white fire.. He then bolted through the sky toward one of the walking death machines destroying it in a ball of white and blue light.  He then streaked toward the rest of the walking death machines destroying all of them leaving behind flames of blue and white.    

He then flew back toward us all. A beautiful sun in the sky he was.  His light was warm and beautiful.  He walked among us all healing us with his light.  I was no longer scared. All my fears were gone.  He then went after one of the megaships destroying it in the sky.  The other ships fled back to the stars.  It was the end of the end.  And the beginning of us again.  One of the kids called him El Sol.

You’d had just enough change to pick it up at the Hall’s gift shop,

As you’d ate sparsely at the down-on-its luck diner

Where the bus had stopped halfway or so through the trip out

(Just as well, given the place’s obvious indifference

To culinary innovation and cleanliness)

And you’d all but sprinted with it

From the cashier straight o the batting cage next door,

Inadvertently ending up in line for the machine

Which threw curveballs

(The kids ahead of you older, most likely high school players

Who made but weak contact with the pitches,

A dream dying a little with each weak tapper and foul-back)

And you went through a handful of futile swings

Before the final pitch came out of the machine,

Spinning oddly and refusing to break toward the plate,

Hitting you in the back with a dull, rubbery thud,

And your teacher, thick-middle man

Who had played a couple seasons in the Indians farm system,

Where he had faced Juan Pizarro (Son, his hook looked

Like it was coming in from first base)

Chuckled softly as he rubbed your back,

Saying It’s like I told you, kid,

This is a hard game.

Writing is a gesture that ties my pleasure
As people walk in and out after a search
For the luminescent touch of knowledge
And the manipulation they wear dares
To become the only monster they treasure
Myriads of erudition and contemplations
Of the human mind, of the human kind
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
The biased subjective assessments
The reduced objective indoctrination
The social constructions of the reality itself
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Such a relative weighted in apollonian seams  
That makes doctors to treat ailments
That makes a judge to rule a deluded justice
That makes a teacher drill a curriculum
Is it not the wisdom bestowed by academia?
Which make us question creation
Which reduces the metaphysics to nothing
Which validates the seen and not unseen
They offered us schools, those glass rules
That brings scholars to warm the benches
Such cruel rues, after years of toil
And there is neither guarantee for jobs
Such a robbery, a dare of mere mockery
So watch those children, as they wear bags
And trek to school everyday, another dystopia
So watch those children, paraded and uniformed
And as their eyes are matted with a bright future
The reality of the future they hold is contrary
For loans will bear the apex of their ribcage
For jobs will become a rare commodity
Artificial robots and self-driven cars
Automated rackets and self-serving checkouts
The obsolete conquest of human labor
Shall time be the only resource we bear?
It’s eventual but ever so inevitable

Francie really is my name.
Uncle Francie has the same;
Uncle Francie is to blame.

Francis is my legal name;
But I was never called the same.
Francie is the one that stuck,
Don't talk to me about Irish luck.

But when I turned twenty-two,
I introduced myself as
Fran,
Sounding more like a man.
I got tired of re-repeating,
Francie, you know, rhymes with Nancy.
I was exhausted of always hearing,
Could you spell that for me Dearie?

When I drove a limosine,
Clients called me Francois.
When I faltered, when I drank,
I told the cops
My name was Frank.

I believe I'm the same
No matter what I'm called by name.
And even though
My ego's fraying,
I'm pleased to turn
If you call saying,
It's good to see you well, Francie.

Oh how I love the gentleness
Of your sharp and tender touch
Your hand moving along my skin
Making its way around my mouth
Gently touching my lips
And along my neck and chin.
You could never make me bleed
You are the only one
You are truly the only one  I need.
And I let you  down in search of others
They could never treat me like you do.
Now they have gone so I am asking please
Your the only one please hear my plea to you
Let us stay together we have got it made.
And now I have to let you know
You are my one and only blade
Your hand so steady  your razer sharp
You give to me that perfect shave