Monday’s Rune: Just a little poke


Lying on the Cath Lab table, oxygen
up my nose, needles in my everywhere,
nurses and technicians asking questions.
Technology all around.

It’s like a Federation starship sickbay,
or a Starbase infirmary
with many more actors vying for a role
and space at my table.

There are two main characters. The protagonists are
the Chief Medical Officer and me.
Other smart young wonders,
called residents, watch.

Also, a consulting rep from
the manufacturer of my shiny new transcatheter aortic heart valve,
to be snaked into place and magically,
guided, angiographically trough my veins and arteries,
and into my beating heart, which will soon almost stop,
scaring all except unconscious me,
to replace the defective OEM part.

They all look alike in masks and caps. I’m naked on a procedure table,
surrounded by X-ray machines, big screen monitors,
procedure carts, lights, and computer workstations.

In some in another room more medical miracle role players
wave from behind large windows.

No TV doctor medicine-show drama. Okay, maybe a little,
but two days later I am home and ready to rock.
Ya gotta love medical science.


Look both ways and ask lots of questions.
Mind the gaps for diagnoses and prognoses.

Sammi’s Weekender #295 (loquacious)

Click on this graphic to link over to Sammi’s blog and more loquacious 88 word wonders.

 

 


Sing It!

With a repertoire
hundreds of songs long, mostly bogarted
from other featherbeds,
(mock, yeah, -ing, yeah)—
as you plagiarize music from lesser songsters,
some people think you’re twenty other birds,
you, my constant yardbird companion,
the most loquacious of creatures
(mock-yeah-ing-yeah-bird-yeah)
mockingbird,
king of harassing selfish bullies,
the loneliest of bellowing bachelors,
master of many colored personalities
tempting ladies who want
to buy me a mockingbird,
“and if that mocking bird don’t sing”
(for a proper mocker, no such thing)
“she gonna buy me a diamond ring.”
“whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa…”


Look both ways in music and life.
Mind the gaps in the birds’ nests in the backyard bushes.

***

Certainly, one of the (if not THE) most famous of married couple duets, Mockingbird sung by Carly Simon and James Taylor. Mockingbird Lyrics & Music were originally by Inez & Charlie Foxx (Added lyrics by James Taylor).

Monday’s Rune: Not looking so good.

 


They called him Tom—not his real name.
This guy was no head-hanging Tom Dooley.
Tom liked to watch. A voyeur. A peeking peeper.
A people watcher of the lowest and riskiest form.
Yet, old Tom was submissive. Not dangerous. But who knew?

Night was his time—windows framed his fantasies.

One day Tom saw something that made him
stop peeping—almost. “Now I’ve seen everything.
My life is complete. And I need to go to confession,
but not with that priest.” Tom, confided in himself.

Then, late one warm summer night, there was a scream.
Someone else yelled.
Dogs barked.
Tom ran.
He heard a gunshot.

Maybe Tom had seen everything. But he never made it
to confession. He died doing what he loved.
What he needed.
And he died running,
just not fast enough. Peeping Tom was no more.
“And another one gone” and
“Another one bites the dust.”


Look both ways.
Exhibitionists and watchers can work together,
each according to his, her, or their wants and needs.

 

Sammi’s Weekender #294 (script)

Click the Script graphic for Sammi’s page and more writings.

 


So, Tell Me

I want to know you. The real, secret you.
I want to read your mind’s script.
Show me your play list. Who do you love?
What about friends? What’s your deal?

I want to know what you do in private
and tell no one. What was your childhood like?
When did you decide to be you?
Who do you hate? What was
your relationship with your parents?

Do you swear? Ever been sexually molested?
How many sex partners do you have?
Tell me your favorite everything.
I’d ask you what you think of me,
but that’s none of my business.


Look both ways at people.
It’s okay to wonder and to imagine.
But mind the gaps.
Not everything makes sense or is what you expect it to be.

Friday Fictioneers for January 13th, 2023

Our mysterious and mischievous Mistress, Rochelle, passionate for the pool (she could swim circles around most of us), has bestowed upon us a Friday the 13th photo by Fleur Lind. We are to be magically inspired and motivated to write a story of fewer than 101 words (unlike Dalmatians or Arabian Nights).

To help enlighten you as you steer your story to the inlinkz squares, click on Fleur’s photo to be driven to Rochelle’s blog where it’s all mapped out for us. It’s fun. Try it. Then join the pack as we read and hopefully comment on as many stories as we like.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fleur Lind

Genre: Narrative Poetry
Title: A Verse of Light
Word Count: 100

***

Driving, my twisted mind a malaise of anger
lost in sorrow that love controls,
I think of her and of him.

That Sting song played,
“I’m so happy that I can’t stop crying
… I’m laughing through my tears”
The blood red sky, like love. The clouds cheering,
“Something about the universe and how it’s all connected”

I saw light coming. I heard,
“Everybody’s got to leave the darkness sometime”

As I drove into the light, I felt the pain leaving me.
“I’m so happy that I can’t stop crying
I’m laughing through my tears” And the pain is gone.

***


Look both ways.
At times, let the future heal the past.
Mind the gaps, some pain remains.

Click on the crash to read other (more uplifting) stories.

 

I have no idea why I like this old Sting song so much.

 

Monday’s Rune: Rescue This

 


Innocently Unhelpful

One day I was chopping weeds.
When I looked up Libby, our toy poodle, was gone.
I knew she would go home with virtually anyone.
But she’d been fixed years earlier, so she could go play.
I noticed a familiar SUV driving away. I was unarmed, but I felt, maybe,
Libby had been dognapped. I called for her and looked around.

After a while, the car returned and pulled over near me.
The lady driving rolled down the window. She held a small black dog
in her lap and asked if it was my dog. I said, “I don’t know. Lemme check
her license right here on her collar.” Libby was calm. I got semi-sarcastic.
“Yep. Last seen right over there in my yard sniffing her own shit.”

The indignant do-gooder gave me a look and said, “I’m a dog
rescuer. I rescue strays.” I took Libby and said, “Today you’ve
moved up to dognapping. Last I checked that was against the law.
Now may I see your rescue license?”

I could tell she was getting pissed at me.

Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall
started pounding my mind and I turned up my volume,

“Hey!       Lady!         Leave this dog alone!


All-in-all, look both ways when tending your flock.
Your poor wretched strays may get “rescued” the minute you look one way.
Mind the gaps in the minds of those dumbly righteous souls who do good to feel better than.

Sammie’s Weekender #293 (preposterous)

Click here for more preposterous writings linked at Sammi’s blog page.

 

 


Dear Danny,

Here’s the thing, man.

It probably seems pathetically preposterous
to a person such as your profoundly proud self,
but at least pretend to listen.

Don’t worry.

I understand.

You cannot validate me.
You are not me, nor I you.
You’re right about that part.
but I’m more you than you’d think,
in a darkly nonspecific way.

See how silly and sad that is?

You despise me for breathing
——- and for being right.


Look both ways as you try to understand people.
All the same, yet different.
Mind the gaps to help keep communication civil.

 

Monday’s Rune: Another New Year


When Once is Enough

Waking up in the drunk tank
is like no other experience.
There are worse things,
but it never seems so at the time.

Confusion, wonder and worry—
where am I?
And, how did I get here?
What are these bruises?
Is that blood? My blood?
I know this headache but at a lower volume.

Who is talking to me?
Fuck! I’m in jail.
I only know what they tell me
and everybody lies.
Another blackout. No memory.
And nobody ever forgives a drunk.
Not even, especially not, this one.


Look both ways, but every action has consequences regardless of the human condition.
Mind the gaps caused by lost memories.

Sammie’s Weekender #292 (tenet)

Click on the graphic to open Sammi’s page for more writings on tenet.

Insightful Prudence

“I know what you do not believe,”
she said, then asked of me,
“but what are the things
you do believe?”

There are degrees to tenets,
woven into minds and bodies,
affecting life from
existence to death, and for some,
beyond.

Beliefs imbued tinge deeply
whereas doubts draw judgment
and castigation. Rational perception
threatens others.

Do not ask. Watch me.


Look both ways when using reasoned thought.
Mind the gaps for hidden traps.

Monday’s Rune: The final week


Why so Happy?

As Hanukkah ends
Kwanzaa begins, and it is boxing day in Canada.
Because yesterday over two billion enlightened
of the eight billion humans alive
decide a religious thing and dispute
coffee cups and well wishes,
which must be specifically selfish.

It’s also the climaxing week of
collegiate football bowls
so schools can decide who to fire
or to obscenely overpay with locked down
contracts having nothing to do
with anything educational (or successful)
except that we are better than you
more near neurotic selfishness. Yay,
we’re number one (so what?).

But it is serious business
for calendars. The end of another
elliptical orbital trip around the
minor star we call Sun,
and another 365 days bite the dust.

In the meantime, libraries close,
school music programs falter
or are cancelled to reduce cost,
and art blows in the wind.
Happy holidays. Congratulations,
it’s a wonderful life, Mister Potter.


Look both ways except this week.
For twenty-twenty-two, it’s over.
Mind the gaps for
“what have we done?”

Now that is art.