#witnesses
She came in out of the cold with a hungry look.
She’d been hunting a bird - the stuff dreams are made of, with a rich coat of bourbon-honey, like newly applied lipstick.
The bird that turned up, a butterball, was in fact murdered.
The signs were all there - decapitation - done by a pro - ligatures and the corpse was stuffed, like a defendant's bad alibi.
The whole holiday was a crime scene, but there was a gravy, dark as a back-alley deal, to obscure forensics, and while the witnesses all talked of blessings - like a cult - there were knives everywhere.
Motives abounded, like place settings - was that cranberry sauce - or blood? The room had a rich smell - roasted bird, dressing and complicity.
The way everything was being passed around - there was nothing for it.
Someone was going to take the fall - not her - she wasn’t having white meat. She was hard-boiled and had had it dark - and you know what they say.
In the end, she got what she was looking for - she almost always did. And it tasted like apple-cider-bourbon and family togetherness - her favorite flavors.
.
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A playlist for this:
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_19.mp3
🦃 🍽️ Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! 🍽️ 🦃
Nov 26, 2025
Nov 26, 2025 at 4:53 PM UTC
>My lover and I make a crime scene every night. But every night, we walk away with more blood on our hands. Not victimless, but witnessless.
_tell me what this carnal discourse is. tell me i can wash it off. tell me i can forget._
>But no, the world murmurs back to me, no, you get to bathe in it. And then, just when you feel anew, you will open your eyes to a lake of lost lovers.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC
If I were to **** someone
Without all these witnesses
Someone without family
Who didn't know another being
If that person was dead
Would anyone notice
Maybe if it was an accident
Maybe if I hid the body
Maybe no one would ever know
Would ever care
Would ever want to know,
To care,
About a person
Who had had a life
It was a lonely life
Probably a sad life
But would anyone bother to care?
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
Here I sit in this holy room
Surrounded by God and a heavenly host
Of saints and angels who give him glory.
Each changed by the body and blood
The power of love and beauty in the sacrifice.
Here I sit in this holy room
A witness to the saving power
A devotion to the perpetual presence
Of Christ with us and in us.
We are each bearers of light, bearers of Christ;
We carry him in us wherever we go.
Here I sit in this holy room
To listen and take in this wondrous gift.
I choose to accept this gift.
How can I not want to share this love with others?
How can I keep from singing and shouting His name?
Here I sit in this holy room
Holy Spirit fill this place and my soul,
Uplift them to the throne of God above.
Start a fire in me that cannot be quenched
And set in me the bright flame of love and passion.
Lead my feet and guide my steps along the path
Be my compass and my Northern Star
So I may never lose my way;
So I can always find my way back home.
Here I sit in this holy room
To add my voice to those around the world
At this moment praying for a change
In others and in their own lives:
Praying for safety and peace,
Understanding and patience.
Praying for survival, praying for the faith's revival.
Praying with men and women past and present
To call upon your aid as we aid those in need.
We pray for many things: our families, friends, nation.
We pray for each other, we pray for ourselves.
Lead us to you, take us closer to your merciful heart,
Love us and heal us and teach us where to start.
Here I sit in this holy room
I give thanks for the gift of undeserved love
And cast my gaze to Heaven above.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
The limping man
entered a world of difference and prejudice
carried by civilization.
Sorrows beyond our
understanding celebrated the right to be alone
in wasted conformity.
He is ashamed
inwardly of transcending fear making persistence
step into impulse.
His cure hooked
the tyranny of repeatedly abused witnesses with
harassing all freedoms.
Injustice regained its
function by stretching a new idea of
the conscious enemy.
-s.r.b.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
The night is dark and empty
The stars are my witnesses
Only wanderers around far desert campfire
Will understand a lonely heart
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC