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Verdae Geissler Jun 2013
This is one of the great memories I have of the, rare but precious, moments I spent with my daddy. I was all of,maybe, six years old. And this is how it went dow that night...

It was during a wedding party for my dad’s good friend Billy Phibin, where he and I would pull off more than a couple of our wonderfully delicious pranks.  Mostly though, we would put to test our excellent skill in ******* off his wife, while amusing all the  wedding guests. And with a style all our own,  we would leave our  mark on a couple of “celebutants” of the New York, Atlanta art scene. My dad and I were quite a team.
I am sure we left our mark, to this very day, on those silly chicks!

As I recall,  one of the two, along with a terrible fake British accent, and some funky 70′s, pre-punk eclectic outfit, was wearing this pair of truly, unforgettable, green sunglasses.
...The kind that would put ol’ Elton to shame!

My dad and I,  when we weren’t throwing bricks, with Harold Kelling, off the top of the old Atlanta warehouse, followed the two celebutants around the party, heckling them through out the night.
...Or, when we weren't reaching for the neon coca cola sign, which seemed so close I thought we might actually be able to touch it, we razzed and heckled the crowd.

The warehouse seemed more like a huge tree house, full of everything wonderful and exciting, than a downtown loft, in the worst neighborhood possible, and where a man might actually be mugged and left for dead in the street!

My dad and I had indulged ourselves in all the boring fun we could stand at this point. Plus, the celeb chicks were getting ready to leave.  So we set our mischief into action.
It was crazy.
Like syncronicity.
...We never planned a thing,  yet we both knew what the plan was, and what the next move was going to be.
So like we were one entity, and in unison, we followed those two chicks to their swank little antique convertible, where we inevitably ended up, absolutely, tricking one of those silly chicks out of her “funky green sun glasses”!  
Not to mention her phone number, for my dad, no less!
My daddy and I were on a roll!
We laughed and laughed as I put them on, then ran.
Wearing those funky green sunglasses!                                  
"Well, that was fun!", my dad exclaimed.
"What's next Daddy?", I screamed with delight!
With a wink and a smile, we were off again....
That is when we really did it up!
We threw it all to the wind!
..and the real fun began!
Hell, we were already in deep **** with Linda Phibin and Da Mama!
....why not have some REAL fun!

...So, as we watched the little antique sporty speed off into the distance, my dad and I set our plan into action...

Let me take a moment to explain the entrance to this loft. It had a very narrow and steep stairway, which led, abruptly, to the sidewalk outside.
So if a man were to loose his balance, it would pretty much be over!

Back to the scene of the crime...

I will, again, note that this staircase was very narrow, steep, and old.

If a man were to fall, he would, inevitably,
land, face first, onto the ***** sidewalk.

...As my dad got busy positioning himself to look as if he'd fallen down the staircase.
He went on to position his face and wine cup just right...
... with them both spilling out onto the sidewalk...!

Now, my job was to sneak back in to the loft's tiny kitchen to get some "blood" for around his mouth and hand.
Off I went...
... I sneaked past the front room, then past the swing, onto the kitchen, people smiling at me the whole way.
... never knowing what was up my sleave...
Finally, I arrived in the cramped little kitchen.
I proceeded, in stealth mode, on to the fridge for ketchup.

Hah! mission accomplished!

I was headed back to the scene, when the
bride caught me by the arm, as she was mixing up some drinks.
She smiled and winked.
...I will always think, because she knew my dad,
and by reading the look on my face, as I stood there with her bottle of ketchup in hand,
she secretly loved whatever  it was, we were up to!
So she gave me the go ahead with then nudge of her chin. T
Then off  I was, once again!
We proceeded to put the finishing touches on our grotesque scene....
... A scene that would most probably now, cause, even, me to have a heart attack,
were I to come upon it!
As I reached my dad, who was all sprawled acroos and down the stairway, I screamed, in my kid voice; "Mission accomplished, daddy!"
"Here's the blood!"
We squirted it in all the right places....
After everything was just right, I  already knew my next mission:
collect the crew, and bring them out to the horrific scene!
Now, I must remind the reader, that "the crew" consisted of my step mother, who had been fed up long before now, and then there was Linda Phibin, who'd been over my dad's antics since 1972!
They made up the "crew"!
Just so you know, they were acting as if they'd had less no fun that evening.
and if they had to put up with “just one more thing out of us”, they would both implode.
Thinking back now, I can say with pride;
The scene was perfect!
We had everything in place.
Now for the theatrical perfomance of my entire childhood...
...My dad looked like **** Jagger, or even Keith Richards during the thrushes of a major overdose, or perhaps Joe Cocker, on a bad drunk...
....With his head all ******, from all the ketchup we'd squirted all over the  place, there he  was.
.. My dad with his bloodly head hanging out into the city’s dark, *****, and dangerous sidewalk!

After, once again, climbing the stairs, I rushed in on the crowd.
I was a kid in hysterics!
I was screaming about, how my dad had lost his balance.
and was, now, lying on the stairs, bleeding into the street.
I led them back to “the scene of the crime”,
sobbing the entire way.

...It was better than we ever could have imagined!
They swallowed it all, hook line and sinker!
They were all freaking out, screaming for an ambulance, medic, anything!
I even remember hearing someone scream,
“Oh God, I think his neck is broken!”
...Then another scream,
”And so are his legs!”
I'll never know how he continued to lay there without cracking up,
but then at that very moment,  
my dad sprung to life, acting as if he were some kind of zombie creature!
They really freaked at that.
... crying and screaming, and freaking out!
Then they screamed some more...
...I was ecstatic, bursting with pure admiration and awe of my daddy’s brilliant performance.
I was walking on air knowing we'd pulled it off , once again!
Meanwhile,
Let's just say, the others were a lot less amused.
So we all piled back into the momobee.
Then headed home, with them scolding us, and ******* the whole way.
....Some things never change!

Even then, my dad and I kept our private little buzz going....

...on  Ketchup and Green Sunglasses!
sushma madappa Jan 2016
The spotlight fades, the curtain falls;

I lay in the dark, close my eyes

And play audience to a celestial symphony of my very own.


Brilliantly lit stars scuttle across

with barely contained urgency.

Trying to find their way home in the dark;

Seeking their designated spot;

Collapsing, colliding, alligning;

Finally coming to a stand still;

To form a pattern - a semblance of home;

Playing their part in the constellation.


Lo and behold, a planet clothed in flaming orange

Darts acroos the sky, pauses to catch it's breath;

Then explodes - into a million little fragments;

Breathtaking, brutal and brilliant, all at once.

Dreams waiting to be sought, seen, serenaded;

And I wake up - to a new show, a new stage, new actors

and yet another spin around the sun!
I woke up from this dream on the morning of the 1st of January 2016 and something inside me shifted a little.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Lying in moss, millenia gone,
wasted mass of vein and bone.
Men drew him forth, with fear and dread,
and caged him as a beast.
Stone throw, foul jest,
pricked for sport, no dark or rest.
Sunlight burns, that skybright glower.
But with each nights fall,
She brings him power.

A quiet girl, the gentlest soul,
sees him not as hell spawned ghoul,
but lost alone, so far from home.
And she knows his time will come.
Skin grow, hair and nails,
more human now, they start to quail,
He bears all pain, smiles at their fear,
his mind flies out acroos the plain.
Calling back what men dread.

Coming steady in the night,
a Hellish horse, and a beast of night.
Last of their kind, they crave his sight.
Dwelled in darkness all these years,
spawning whispered dreadful fears.
From his cage he sees her truth.
The pregnancy belies her youth.
A sin that cursed her in the eyes,
of those that poison with their lies.

The one deed she can do for him,
she frees the monster, this no whim!
Hidden in a place to rest,
her pity passed the test.
So she runs, with his eyes upon her.
Only Her death will save the honour,
of those who can have none.
Far away, with her lover she runs,
hiding, child now close, a chosen one.

But grinning, with the glee of hate,
Her hunters come, sadistic fate.
A hundred foul men, with her kin,
to punish love with every sin.
Stricken no more, breathing the night.
Greeting his beasts with a call to the fight.
And a prayer, the first and last of his life.
Let me ride one day beneath your light.
I will kneel before your cross.....

Day comes, riding forth, as in the days gone by.
When the world feared their coming.
But today, bleeding from palms, and head,
and wounded, the suffering of the sweetest one,
the price of his prayers.
One day of racing hooves and claws,
swords that flash, dragon soars.
Fallen men and horses mark,
His path out from  the dark.
Weapons dripping, claws ripping,
no smile now, tension gripping.

Too late to save, the torture done.
Still warm, but now beyond his reach.
But still inside the smallest beats.
Quick strokes, hard deeds, in his arms,
torn mother still bleeds,
But her dead face smiles, child  saved from harm.
So He'll nurture and teach the little one,
Tell him of the good his Mother had done.
Then, together they will come.
With a host of Dragons to claim his throne.
betterdays Oct 2014
should i take azoth
to cure my sloth

it may well make
my mind like quicksilver
send me messages from
the mouths of gods
at round about 80wpm
or will it just make my moods mecurial
and put little beads
of silver sweat acroos
my furrowed brow
with it's inherent toxicity

if i take a dose of azoth
or liquid cinnabar.
i may live fast,
but i won't live long...
my old friend paracelsus
tells me "the dose makes
the poison" and in this he
is right.

i might skip the azoth.....
and the cinnibar liquid too
go for coffee instead....
or could just succumb
to sloth and stay in bed.
word play......inspired by
my dictionaries word of the day ...azoth....
probably should say...do not
attempt to ingest azoth
it is so not good for you
as it is....
wordvango Oct 2015
started with a few beers I drank next door
at Micky's place , her telling me about her sick kid
and how her dialysis went today. She updated me
on the minutes from the last meeting of
the Clayhatchee Man Haters Club.

They actually have T-shirts and little pins,
and I asked if possibly I could be named
the Most Hated Man-of -the-Month.
No, she said, we all love you, she answered.
Well, **** what do I have to do to be honored, then
I said.

Felt small, for, I do love being honored.
Then, I hugged her, as she always insists I do
before leaving, and went  home straight to my fridge. Wrestled with the twelve pack
I just bought earlier, and six beers fell to the floor.

I put them in a bag and visited my best friend Shannon
and his adorable wife, Nancy, right across the street. I enjoy them, a card Shannon is, he works construction, as I do. And I guess I semi-intentionally did not tell him the beer I offered him had fallen, with a thud to the floor. I gave his wife one too but tapped the top before.
I got (us workers only understand practical jokes)
a big laugh as he opened his and it foamed up through all over.

So out of beer, I and my shadow, walked barefoot acroos the
street to Alice's Convenience store to add a backup stash to my three
beers left. On the way back across Hwy 92 asphalt I heard clickety clack as my shadow was right there, a Black lab, who was left for her alone by some ******* and she turned up on my doorstep hungry.

Amazing how little it takes to make true love. A little food, a pet on
a head, a dry place to lay a head occasionally, amazing how a shadows
long nails clickety-clack on the asphalt. My shadow loves me , is there as soon as I get home her tail wagging.
She ran in my apartment as I put two Olde English in the fridge to cool
in case I needed them later, jumped right onto the couch and rested her head on my pillow.

I opened up my browser, did a little checking on my sites and notices.
Then Big head, I call him that, he is about a year old with the head of a soccer ball came through the open door. Looked over the food dishes took a nibble or two, then jumped up next to my shadow and pushed his head against the black lab, purring.

Big head just started hanging here a week ago. Where he came from , I don't know. But he is welcome, the looks of my two stray female, not spayed yet cats, Panda and Babay, attest to that.

Eventually I will drink a couple more beers , write something, almost like this, and try to find a spot to lie down, if all my shadows let me.

my happiness, tonight
is never ended.
Akira Chinen May 2016
Waking with this warm
Trembling in my soul
Dreams of you lingering
Carving your image
Deeper into my heart
Such beautiful painful longing
Aching through my entirety
Everything hard and pounding
Pressing and seeping
Love and lust and life
From every pore
Flowing like
Madness over the moon
Flames acroos the sun
Filling the void between
Every star in the sky
And my mortal eyes
Spelling out your name
And hushed cries
And joyfull tears
Buried with the secret
Whispers I've repeated
Into my pillow
Clutched gently in
My shaking hands
As every morning
I wake with this
Warm trembling
In my soul
betterdays Sep 2017
perch on stools
too high for short legs
elbows resting askew on
sawn wood table top

the smell of dill pickles
pefumong the air
we wait for the bagels
to arrive......

heaped with pastrami and onion jam
crumbling half melted sharp cheddar
dill pickles sliced acroos the top
a mountain of foodlove
on an old china plate

old time root beer floats
and a mound of serviettes
let the **** begin....
as we snarf and scoff
our way down to china

don't forget to buy
some bagels for breakfast either
new bagelery in town...we have found heaven on earth.....
When your heart wants to race out
through your chest -  a fear fuelled zip acroos your rib cage. With deep breaths taken at short intervals dose the fire of that burning engine.
Keep your soul on the steering wheel and feel all dread slow down.

— The End —