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Max Neumann May 2020
Noah is a boy of eight years with almond brown eyes and soft black hair, and he loves dragons and elephants. Right now, he and his dad Frank are sitting around their living room coffee table, a snowstorm whipping through the darkness outside the windows...

“I'm here too,” a dragon says, lurking in a corner of the room in attacking position. “I am the Bewilderbeast and I'm from the children's show ‘Dragons’ – my body is as big as ten stacked oxen, and my wings are covered with sharp black spikes. My tail is gigantic and deadly. And by the way, I have blood-red eyes.”

Now an elephant speaks up and trumpets: "Törööö! I am Benjamin. You may think I’m big and scary, but I am gentle. I love sugar cubes more than anything: eating them is my passion. How yummy! Otherwise, I'm the quiet type: I avoid quarrels and wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

Noah and Frank want to play Uno (a card game). Frank shuffles the cards, putting the neat stack on the table while reaching for a freshly opened beer bottle. He takes it and empties it in one go.
Noah follows his father's drinking movement, quietly observing.

When Frank has finished, Benjamin asks: "You know what, Noah?"
"What?" Noah wants to know.
"Oh," Benjamin growls.
"Did you just say something?" Frank asks.
"No, I was just thinking out loud," his son answers, as the Bewilderbeast grumbles to him:
"I hate it when Frank drinks."

Then the great dragon snorts until embers like fireflies come out of his throat. They swarm around the living room and settle everywhere like glowing neon-yellow dust.

"Don't like dirt on the table," Noah complains.
"You're right, Noah. The cards are well-shuffled and I'm quite able to do so", Frank says after opening his second bottle. He drinks it half empty and hums, "Playing cards is great fun, you know. When I was little younger than you are now, I used to thrill and entertain everyone with my card tricks at my grandmother's wonderful birthday party."

While Frank talks, Noah secretly mimics him.
"Ha! That was something," Frank adds, running his fingers through his hair and licking his lips. "If only they hadn't always drunk so much. That bothered me as a child. I often lost myself in my thoughts, thinking about how to build the biggest house of cards in the world, while grandma and grandpa danced and bumped into each other causing hearty roars of laughter."

Reflexively, Frank grabs the half-full beer bottle and drinks it up.
"After the party, they lay drunk on the carpet," Noah says quietly.
Frank doesn't seem to hear that and adds: "In the end they were laying on the carpet, drunk. Oh yes, good people, but they couldn't help their drinking."

Noah repeats in a whisper: "But they couldn't help their drinking."
Frank doesn't take notice; he gazes at the empty beer bottle. His thighs bob up and down and again. Frank licks his lips. "You know what, Noah?" he says. "You deal the cards. You know, eight for each player, and no cheating."  

After Frank has jumped up and left the living room, the Bewilderbeast hisses: "Frank is no good, because he only talks about himself, about his childhood. But what about you, Noah? That ****** me off," he roars ravingly. He spits fire again, this time without regard for Noah, forcing him to take cover under Benjamin's belly, beside his knobby legs.

The ruby-red eyes of the Bewilderbeast cut the living room's twilight with their brilliance and he spits out one fire salvo after the other, just as a flamethrower does...

"Please stop!" Noah is shouting, but the dragon only responds "Forget it. Everything here must burn. We have to erase your father's memory, only then he will learn to love you. You also hate the living room, don't you? – because Frank drinks here all the time."

"Don't let him fool you,” Benjamin is humming. "The wild beast spits fire, that's all very well, but breaking things... That," Benjamin yawningly mumbles "he can't do."  

Then the fire subsides, while Noah crouches between Benjamin's legs, eyes wide open. Frank comes back, another beer bottle in his right hand, drinking. When he sees Noah curled up, he snorts with laughter and spits the beer in his mouth on his son. Noah does not seem to register this. Frightened, he stares at the Bewilderbeast who, in a resting position with one red eye open, is waiting for the next attack.  

"Oh boy, beer's e'rywhere!" Frank slurs as he slams the beer bottle on the table and bends down to Noah to take him into his arms.
"****!"
Frank runs into the bathroom to grab a towel, and comes back, carefully rubbing Noah's hair dry.
"Ew," grumbles Noah. "I hate that."
Frank looks at Noah uncomprehendingly: "The hair have to be rubbed off. Don't they?"
"Don't believe him", the Bewilderbeast hisses. "He's lying to you, Noah."

At the same time, Benjamin is saying to Noah: "You see, Frank loves you. He's rubbing your hair off. And he feels bad about the spilled beer."
Noah's face is white as a sheet. "Stop it, stop it, stop it," he whispers and covers his ears.

Frank looks at his son with concern. He lets the towel down and slowly takes Noah's hands off his ears, brushes a wet hair, which sticks to Noah's forehead, from his face.
"Can't look at you when you're in this state", Frank says gently. Without hesitation, he pokes Noah in the stomach with his fingers and tickles him so that Noah breaks out, first tentatively, into laughter.

He tries with all his strength to shake off his father's hand, but it doesn't work, although Frank has to make funny movements to tickle him any further. The two become entangled with one another and cannot stop the laughter.
But then Noah stops laughing and asks: "Daddy, why do you drink beer?"
Frank doesn't seem to have expected such a direct question. He pauses for a moment and answers: "Because it tastes good. Why do men drink?"

Noah shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not a man yet. But if it's good, why do you drink so fast? I always think you don't like the beer."
"Well," Frank grumbles, "I don't drink that fast. What makes you think that? It’s a matter I would have to deal with more closely, it needs to be weighed up and thought through thoroughly before jumping to conclusions."

The Bewilderbeast whispers furtively: "He's lying, Noah. Do not believe a word he says."
Benjamin says: "Frank is addicted to beer. But he doesn't want to hurt you."

This time Noah keeps calm. And he goes on to ask the next question: "Do you like it or not?"
Frank's eyes roam the room like he's looking for something. The Bewilderbeast snorts quietly; Benjamin, being in a good mood, is eating a handful of sugar cubes.
"Well, you know Noah – I like beer. But I used to drink it much slower."

Noah looks at Frank seriously and sadly. You mean when Mom was still alive.
Frank answers with his eyes. And nods, hardly noticeable.
Father and son remain silent. "You see," Benjamin says: "You and dad are connected by something: By the death of your mother Ruth."

The Bewilderbeast says: "Frank drinks the beer because he can't stand your grief, Noah. And he loves Ruth much more than he loves you. He wishes you had died instead of her."
"Can we turn on the music, daddy?"
"Which song?"
"Tears In Heaven," Noah answers. "You know, by Eric..."
"Clapton." Frank replies. Then he gets up and goes into the next room to play the song on YouTube.
"Is the sound bar turned on, Noah?"

Noah checks and notices countless glittering lights buzzing around the speaker block, sparkling like stars in the Milky Way. Noah is magically attracted by this sight, stares at the lights with his mouth wide open and reaches out his index finger...
"Noah!" Frank shouts. "Is the system on or off?"
"No," Noah answers. "The stars are no longer there".
"What? Don't be stupid," Frank grouses as he returns to the living room. He pushes Noah aside. "Let me check it out." Frank bends down to the sound bar, fiddling with the wiring. "No wonder, Noah. The optical cable broke. Did you do that?"
Noah looks at Frank, meaningful and meaningless. "You know what, dad... Why don't we play cards instead?"

Frank seems unhappy and is stepping fidgety from one leg to the other, takes the beer bottle off the table and realizes in frustration that it's empty. "**** it," Frank scolds, but then he looks at Noah and blushes.
"I've got an idea!" Noah suddenly exclaims. "Let's make a deal, dad. You get yourself a beer."
"And then?" Frank asks skeptically.
"Tonight, you drink it slowly. Are you scared?"
"Scared?" Frank asks while he hurries off.

Shortly afterwards he returns, holding an open beer bottle in his hand from which nothing has been drunk yet. He puts the bottle on his lips, drinks the first two sips quickly, pauses, puts the bottle on the table, and rubs his stomach.
"But now I have to go to the toilet, oh my."

By this time, Benjamin is already asleep, a sugar cube is stuck between the tip of his trunk and the floor.
Noah smiles. When his father has left the living room, Noah says, without looking, to the Bewilderbeast: "You see – Daddy loves me. Otherwise he wouldn't drink more slowly. It's that simple, isn't it?"
No answer.

Noah turns around to look. Where the Bewilderbeast huddled, there is now a small dragon figure. Carefully, Noah sneaks up to it, and when he feels that there is no danger coming from the figure, he holds it to his ear and whispers: "Daddy loves me, doesn't he?"
Today is a good day.

I do thank the gifted and smart poet Wren for his gracious support in editing this short story. Check out his work on hellopoetry, he is amazing.
Safana Aug 2020
Ring the Bell
Ring it, well
Ring the Bell
can see, a skell
from dry well
They sight it well
A wealthy kvell
spell it and yell,
*
Ring the Bell
And paupers
           yawningly mispell
Bcause,
           They can see not well
They said:
           Blood well instead farewell

Ring the Bell
Everyone is unwell
The tears is upwell
No tasty, they smell
All sadness are swell
And hungry is quell

Ring the Bell
Again,
          Difficulties swell
          No one to dwell
          For a bit on snell
          Uphill is upswell

Ring the bell
And,
Ring it well!
Be alert and alert everyone to help those needy ones everywhere in this world.
Ovi-Odiete Feb 2017
Black night

When the moonlight goes into hiatus
and no star beckons the dark sky
Two lovers will hold hands
and side by side, they walk
Moments after moments
hours after hours
Their smile will wake the night
and their touch will be its light
Guiding them yonder
As they conquer the night


Morning

When the stars floats and go into hiding
And the day breaks, yawningly yearning
Two lovers will bloom like dew falls
On the spiraling grass, fresh and green
And as birds chirping
Calling after calling
Their song will seize the day
and their love will lead its paths
Blossoming the day, blossoming
Flowing the day, flowing
And love will be its fruit


Ovi Odiete
All right reserved, Feb 2017
For love and the season of love
Timothy Ward Jan 2016
antiquated diatribes
hackneyed bromides
deflated explosions
unreal delusions
sycophantic embraces
hiding disgraces
cult of bipolarity
words of triviality
obsessively unceasing
yawningly unentertaining
Eileen Auger May 2014
Dreams never create themselves
out of thin air.
A chance meeting-
A flicker of memory-
A worry beneath our consciousness-
Anything at all in waking hours
can trigger a dream-scape
which (more often than not)
becomes a weird collage of images,
a bizarre story line
seemingly making perfect sense
when lost in the odd land of dreams.

Only in dreams, one might say
"Everything happens for a reason".
In the unconsciousness of sleep,
the brain retrieves bits and bytes
from its vast databank
of memory and experience,
past and present,
mixing it up into a strangely logical soup.

In the wakefulness
of "real life"
Nothing really happens
"for a reason".
The Universe is
yawningly indifferent
to our personal affairs,
leaving us to our own devices.


We are masters of our fates
only to a certain extent,
until random events change our course.
We call it sweet serendipity
when things go as planned.
But when things go awry
(as they often will)
we  comfort ourselves
with that old saw
"Everything happens for a reason",
in vain attempts to explain
the inexplicable,
to create meaning where none exists.
I am not buying that sentiment.

Eileen Auger
5/6/14
dubious churning benevolent altruism

this anonymous beastie boy boilerplate endeavors:

(instagramming literary maven) questing user yawps

critically griping knowing personal tidbits xeroxed blithely,

freely jeopardized nuggets (revealed vital), zealously doled

heftily linkedin private treasure trove, (Xfiles breached

flagrant junction mandating righteous validating zero

divulgence heaves lamentable ploy, tellingly xing bald

felonious figurative joyriding, nonchalantly revealing

valuable (Ziegfeld bomb crackling) debacle, heralding

litigious proven, *******, basic foolhardy (Laurel) jack

knifed, networked, rapaciously villainous, zealously dubious,

horrendously lowball practices, thru (Cambridge Analytica)

xy zealots, asininely execrable, intolerantly malignant,

quintessentially ugly, yawningly dastardly, horrendously

lamentable, pathetically treasonous, xtra blameworthy,

fiendishly jawboning, mindlessly paradigm quaking,

unethical yahoo careless gross injustice jangling kow

towing, pleasing the Xmen, banefully Facebook friggin

jerky maliciously narcissistically opprobrious predacious

quisling underhandedly yo-yoing cello glomming kik off

preachiness spar!
Richard j Heby Dec 2015
political correctness and affectedness
overtly appeal to the need to appeal to
everyone who thinks they aren't everyone, but
truthfully, are a worse form everyone,
yelling yawningly boring lines about
raw fruit and other metaphors, published in the New
Yorker
#acrostic
Bonafide catatonic doggedness,
nevertheless this stubborn stoic poet writ
afore and another feeble effort courtesy
exhaustive mental effort
he brewed den - brought about divine visit
analogously to solve mystery pinpointing
within suspense unveiling whodunnit.

Whereat your true
plane vanilla author's creativity
admittedly drastically did decline
bawling and crying
caterwauling putting any feline,
to shame, hence abandoned grandiose design,
cuz he suddenly contracted

(think fabricates)... what else
flesh eating bacteria unfavorable sign
finding me body stone cold supine
(courtesy brainstorm that went awry)
inducing purgatory nauseating
sensation to *****,
nope not at all feeling fine,

hence literary dream subsequently mine
ambition tanking (think
kamikaze nose diving
minus parachute life line),
sought spiritual guidance ministered
severe existential nihilist crisis
(an understatement)... zip,

absolute zero, and nein
never to witness, nor
restored vigor and vitality,
(sob... sob... sob) ha how asinine,
hence garden variety germane pine
wood coffin evidenced
resembling somber funereal yahrzeit

(/ˈyärˌtsīt,ˈyôr-/) recollecting late mother
helped beget kith and kin of mine,
than as now buzzfeeding appetites decline
possibly courtesy bloodily splattered
white laboratory coated
donned Victor Frankenstein
mister monster master's

repurposed cadaver delivers kosher eats
fancy feast grubhub groaning
outsize maître d' makes beeline,
nsync with anonymous canine,
corps speedier than any airline,
unbeknownst to yours truly posthumous
fame will inevitably yield moonshine.

Fast forward approximately
twelve hours later recuperated -
aide de camp resolved impasse with
partial writer's block slayed
attempting to continue quasi theme
i.e. avoid typing with fingers delayed,
albeit no matter unconscious

editing automatically peremptorily made
suppressing crude, fiery, ignominious tamed
loathsome offal rot earning F grade
securely unceremoniously waylaid
lurid outburst blandly diluted into staide
yawningly tedious figurative walled barricade,
when lo and behold atavistic beast erupts

fresh sortie attempts peppering enfilade
anew ideally unadulterated, unedited,
unexpurgated material ought be displayed
to allow, enable, and
provide raw emotional blackest shade
to resonate within mind
of unsuspecting reader,

who might take
objection with primitive grade
communication, and blatant
scathing writer somewhat afraid
to air unrefined sentiments
may cost popularity,
uncontested where cadre of

unseen followers thence evade
once popular rising star,
whose emergent fame
(even if only limited edition
to cyberspace) will fade,
yet methinks loosing
stream of consciousness obeyed

fealty on one metrical foot
metaphorically uncorking
deep seated primal angst laid
bare like bleached bones
existential crisis oft times
gussied up to avoid tirade,

whereby woke parlayed
gut wrenching splenetic self degrade
ding soul bearing vile eruption
considerably quieted, stoppered, tamped...
courtesy linkedin, symbiotic maid.
Bonafide catatonic doggedness,
nevertheless this stubborn stoic poet writ
afore and another feeble effort courtesy
exhaustive mental effort
he brewed den - brought about divine visit
analogously to solve mystery pinpointing
within suspense unveiling whodunnit.

Whereat your true
plane vanilla author's creativity
admittedly drastically did decline
bawling and crying
caterwauling putting any feline,
to shame, hence abandoned grandiose design,
cuz he suddenly contracted

(think fabricates)... what else
flesh eating bacteria unfavorable sign
finding me body stone cold supine
(courtesy brainstorm that went awry)
inducing purgatory nauseating
sensation to *****,
nope not at all feeling fine,

hence literary dream subsequently mine
ambition tanking (think
kamikaze nose diving
minus parachute life line),
sought spiritual guidance ministered
severe existential nihilist crisis
(an understatement)... zip,

absolute zero, and nein
never to witness, nor
restored vigor and vitality,
(sob... sob... sob) ha how asinine,
hence garden variety germane pine
wood coffin evidenced
resembling somber funereal yahrzeit

(/ˈyärˌtsīt,ˈyôr-/) recollecting late mother
helped beget kith and kin of mine,
than as now buzzfeeding appetites decline
possibly courtesy bloodily splattered
white laboratory coated
donned Victor Frankenstein
mister monster master's

repurposed cadaver delivers kosher eats
fancy feast grubhub groaning
outsize maître d' makes beeline,
nsync with anonymous canine,
corps speedier than any airline,
unbeknownst to yours truly posthumous
fame will inevitably yield moonshine.

Fast forward approximately
twelve hours later recuperated -
aide de camp resolved impasse with
partial writer's block slayed
attempting to continue quasi theme
i.e. avoid typing with fingers delayed,
albeit no matter unconscious

editing automatically peremptorily made
suppressing crude, fiery, ignominious tamed
loathsome offal rot earning F grade
securely unceremoniously waylaid
lurid outburst blandly diluted into staide
yawningly tedious figurative walled barricade,
when lo and behold atavistic beast erupts

fresh sortie attempts peppering enfilade
anew ideally unadulterated, unedited,
unexpurgated material ought be displayed
to allow, enable, and
provide raw emotional blackest shade
to resonate within mind
of unsuspecting reader,

who might take
objection with primitive grade
communication, and blatant
scathing writer somewhat afraid
to air unrefined sentiments
may cost popularity,
uncontested where cadre of

unseen followers thence evade
once popular rising sallying forth star,
whose emergent fame
(even if only limited edition
to cyberspace) will fade,
yet methinks loosing
stream of consciousness obeyed


fealty on one metrical foot
metaphorically uncorking
deep seated primal angst laid
bare like bleached bones
existential crisis oft times
gussied up to avoid tirade,

whereby woke parlayed
gut wrenching splenetic self degrade
ding soul bearing vile eruption
considerably quieted, stoppered, tamped...
courtesy linkedin, symbiotic maid.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil declared
because sweet tooth (er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,

quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing, gob
stop ping, feasting immediate enema

inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving

zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, **** under fire, violent

whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically

clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!

Otherwise *** hide from irritable bowel
syndrome this second July Sunday 2019
quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously drab
characterizing local buffoon, i.e. yours truly.

Shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister heavenly gourmet deluxe cake?
When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.

Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.

Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.

Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful

cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, **** under fire, violent

whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!

Otherwise *** hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble ****.

Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?

— The End —