prose

Sammi’s Weekender #297 (key)

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Whispering Cuts

Lost in a familiar sea of grave reality, my dysfunctional heart not yet surrendered, something of which none are certain. Worry descended like a pall over my will. Sadness has taken control of my soul. Well-intentioned, high-riding key influencers are wheedling me into their delusional corner. Life, lies, and what matters: shut down before I hit the ground. I ponder death, or better, conceivably, never to have been born at all.

Look both ways, but in the end, it is just the end.
Nothing more.
Mind the gaps of life’s traps.
Sometimes it’s your fault. Sometimes it’s not.

Sammi’s Weekender #252 (purport)

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Adverbial Alliteration

Advisedly, we’re normally explanatorily told not to
write clichéd adverbial conquests, but to eschew such modifications
faithfully as frivolously fast fingers freely flow creatively composing
craftily constructed compositions, purportedly passing on poorly
penned prepositional phrases padded with mystery.

Reality rudely reeks seeking adjunct, conjunct, disjunct, or just plain junk.
To prepare perfectly pedestrian, speciously deceptive poems and prose,
paint in some opposition of affirmation.

Look both ways crossing artful Grammar Ave. Mind the gaps that set the traps.

Commentary: Sammi’s Weekender #204 (forage)

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When words like shit and fuck are used, it’s often to express emotion. Meanings of excrement and fornication are less often intended. Both can be vulgarities, obscenities, or profanities, depending on context and who sees or hears it: lawyers, religious people, or your mother.

Shit results from forage, which leads to eating, thus pooping. People who study shit (“excrement examined experimentally”) are called scatologists, although scatology also refers to literature, or they’re called scientists who work in fimo, after the Latin fimus.

Look both ways and watch where you step.
Mind the gaps or you may ruin someone’s idea of a scientific experiment.

Not my poem, but an oldie I recall from boyhood days.

Sammi’s Weekender – Flash Story: The Little White Lie

The young man stood straight as the teacher’s loud, angry voice bristled. She berated his atrocious spelling and wretched grammar. He held back tears of shame and anger as she publicly humiliated him. She declared his entire family abysmal failures as human beings destined for an eternity in hell.

He found abysmal in the dictionary. When his mother later asked how he had done on the school paper he worked on so diligently, he reported that the teacher said it was very deep and that the entire family was destined for infinite success.

Look both ways. They may forgive, but they’ll not forget.
Mind the gaps. No memory is flawless.