Blurp #58

Random lesson in Evil: When going out of town, be sure and set various alarm clocks to go off, nice and loud, at various times each day; that way your neighbors will have something to listen to while you’re gone.

Blurp #57

During a category 2 emergency at a public restroom with limited toilet paper, does one dare squander the precious few squares to construct the protective seat cover?

Blurp #56

Dear Diary,

Who have you been talking to?

Encrypted Soul

A voice with no identification
mingles with the wind.

Is the receiver the sender as well? Storms do obscure. Thought trails carve impossible labyrinths.

Locked souls twitch in their shackles. Executioners lay their necks on their own chopping blocks. Audiences assembled prepare reviews for their invisible bosses.

A note presses up against a pair of familiar shoes. Eyes read the words as members of the audience check their watches in anticipation for an appointment in another theater.

There had been a catastrophe. The heavens had torn, and worlds collapsed.

Tentatively, blood flows back into the robot’s system, and the heads-up display returns. The damage control report dictates reparative action is necessary for the integrity of the soul.

A message is composed and sent into the tangled wires where two ancient labyrinths stood. A whisper returns, and the erection of a proper tombstone begins.

Gone but Never Forgotten

Some lights will never dim. And though they may scorch us from time to time, they burn in our minds an image of what was and always will be truly divine.

 

An Outside Basket

The elaborate hoop lake dream
Comes tumbling down the mountain
Where have you been all these years?
The amnesiac returns from surgery

Which one goes in the peg?

He likes when you sing soft songs at midnight

But don’t ever say these three things
His mother didn’t, you see
She works for a demolition crew
So the poor idiot forgets the food he chews

Until it chokes him

Thus, he retired to this suite
To seek salvation from a breakdown

Every time he opens the door
She is staring in his face
And cleaving with a tapestry
Of beauty and disgrace

Go back to sleep my precious
He curls up in a ball
We’ll bounce you up and down the court
And let the ref make all the calls

Blurp #55

Let’s put things into perspective; I’d like to eat a cheeseburger, and then I’d like to kill you.

Blurp #54

If someone took a big bite out of your brain and then asked for seconds (without having asked permission for the first taste), I’ll bet your response would be: “Weeaahhhlllthusuzah….”

Blurp #53

If the pedophiles grant you forgiveness, then you’re in the clear, baby!

Priceless Art

It is difficult to define a work of art because the perception of it is highly subjective. But for me, the most powerful and beautiful works of art cannot be bought, hung on a wall or placed on a pedestal.

In the area where I live, people frequently construct little shrines along the roadside in the spot where a loved one died. There is a surprisingly large number of these markers throughout my city. Today, when I was riding my bike, I saw one that was more impressive than most that I’ve seen.

It was a powerful thing, and it made me sad. I wasn’t sad for the youth who had lost his life at this location (I had never known him); I was sad because the beauty which stood before me screamed of the powerful emotions that had been invested in its creation.

It was not created for profit; rather, it had been created as a result of a tremendous loss. It was not created for the purpose of adulation — only for commemoration. It will not stand the test of time, nor will it ever be re-created or re-envisioned by historical societies.

The flowers will soon wither, and the city’s public works employees will soon clear it away as they would random debris. And only the family and friends whose pain resulted in this work of beauty — as well as any random passersby — will ever know that it existed…for, oh, such a brief period of time.