The World is My Oyster, Really

“Have you ever noticed that geese, from a distance, sound like dogs barking?” he asks me as he lifts his glass of wine to his lips.

“No,” I reply, thinking him stupid. Really I want to stab him through the heart, but not really. I know I’ll regret it if I do.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks.

“I don’t know, dear. We’re on vacation. The world is our oyster.”

Maybe I’ll strangle you while you sleep and then I can go out on the boat by myself tomorrow and not have to listen to you whine about how much the cottage costs us per month and how much your shoulder hurts when you paddle.

“Maybe we should go out in the boat,” he says.

“That sounds like a good idea, dear,” I reply.

The Words

A story in two sentences.

DSC00146

“Your words are like a damned river!”

“But when I’m around you, my words are like a dammed river: can’t you hear the difference?”

Social Inertia

How we cheapen ourselves
for the sake of the masks we wear.
For the sake of popularity.
For the sake of self-satisfaction.

We may take our lives to extremes,
vicariously,
or hidden here in social media.

And for what?
So that we can feel
included,
lift our spirits,
while we rest on our asses and let life pass us by.

Go out, I say
Taste the vapours of outdoors
Hear the sounds of real traffic
Not that of the hits on your site
I say while I sit
In the vacuum of my internetz

Lalala

My world is vast
the web tangled and
from one end of the world to the next
I bounce here in the centre
of my world

You may be far
but you feel to be
beside me. And yet you sit
in your own centre
of your world

Lalala
We all sing
sometimes not understanding each other
but sometimes
our world meets

In the centre

There’s a Hole in my Bucket – A Contemporary Version

Liz and Henry were as childless as a couple could be, meaning they’d been trying for years, but according to the doctors, Henry’s ‘swimmers’ just weren’t up to the task. They’d been living on the farm for a few years, raising goats and chickens, but as the years passed, so did the chances that they’d be raising young ‘uns.

One day, as Henry limped over to the trough that held the goat’s water (Henry had twisted his ankle the day before when he slipped in goat shit) he noticed that his bucket was getting lighter as he walked.

“Shit,” he said out loud.

“What is it?” Liz asked, making Henry jump. He hadn’t heard her sneak up behind him.

“Would you please announce yourself instead of scaring the bejeesus outta me?”

The tension between the couple had been rising like an snail on a year long sabbatical meaning to get up a mountain, but Henry was almost at the peak. He was this far away from dashing back down the hill.

“Sorry,” Liz mumbled. “So why’d you say ‘shit’?

“There’s a hole in my bucket,” Henry grumbled.

“So fix it.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know. A straw.”

Henry stood, water dripping from the leaky bucket onto the sock which encased his sore ankle, and glared at his wife.

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, I heard somewhere that you can fix a bucket with a straw,” she shrugged.

“But it doesn’t make any sense!” Henry took note that his voice was reaching a soprano pitch and made the effort to bring it down. “How in the hell can I fix a bucket with a goddam straw?”

“I dunno. Here,” at that point she pulled a paper wrapped McDonald’s straw from her back pocket and handed it to him. “It’s all I’ve got on me anyway.

“Fold it over or something and stick it in the hole.”

“Whatever,” Henry grumbled, plucking the straw from her fingertips and heading back to the barn with it.

“What if it’s too long?” he called over his shoulder.

“Cut it!”

He could almost hear her eyes rolling around in her head.

Bitch, he thought.

Five minutes later Liz came into the barn. She stopped by him to see what he was doing.

“How’s that cutting coming along?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

It was a McDonald’s straw. It shouldn’t be taking five minutes to get through with a hammer.

“Um… no. Why don’t you use a knife?”

“Oh for fuck sakes. The knife is dull!”

“It can’t be any duller than a hammer.”

She was staring at him. He hated it when she stared at him that way. It made him feel stupid.

Liz sighed as if she was tired. Of him. Yeah, well he was getting tired of the whole, ‘Make me a baby or I’m leaving you,’ too. She whined it in his head at least fifteen times a night while he was trying to get to sleep.

“Why don’t you sharpen the knife?”

Henry felt the blood pressuring up in his veins like someone had pumped a shitload of heat through his pores and inflated him like a balloon.

“Because,” he growled, turning on her with his eyes bulging from their sockets, “the sharpening stone I have here,” he held the object an inch from her nose, “is too fucking dry!”

She looked him right in the eye. Without blinking, hell, without batting a friggin’ eyelash, she said, “Wet it.” Just like that.

Henry lost it.

“Wet it? FUCKING WET IT? I’LL FUCKING WET YOU!!!”

Nine months later their son was born.

The Man in the Mirror

Chain mail

“How does your chain mail feel?” I ask him from the driver’s seat.

“It’s heavy,” he scowls.

*****

It all started one day when I was sitting in the parking lot of a Tim Horton’s, eating ham and Swiss cheese on a croissant with lettuce and tomato. I was half-way through my sandwich when I heard a knock on the back window of my mini-van. I thought at first that maybe it was someone I knew. I looked in both side mirrors to see if someone was approaching the front of the car but I saw no one on foot. When I looked in the rear-view however, there he was. Needless to say I jumped – I’d thought I was alone.

“What are you doing in my car?” I shrieked at the diminutive green man in my farthest back seat. I hopped out of the van before he could answer, which was silly, because I’d left my keys in the ignition. When I reached in through the window to retrieve them he spoke.

“You asked for me!”

“I did what? Who are you?”

He puffed up his chest and gave me a wide multi-cuspate-toothed smile. “I am your prince charming!” His sharply pointed ears twitched and his finely pronged nose lifted as he said this. He was obviously quite proud of his appearance.

“But you don’t look a bit like a prince charming to me!”

“I don’t?”

“You’re green!”

“Oh my!” he exclaimed, and he disappeared.

****

Three days later I heard a knock on the window of my van. I was driving at the time.

“I can’t look right now,” I said, because I was concentrating on the road.

“That’s okay,” came the same voice I had heard from the little green elf-like man.

As soon as I came to a stop light I tilted my head so I could see into the farthest back seat of the car. He wasn’t there. The light turned green. I started driving.

“Pull over,” he said.

“You’ll have to wait.” I was getting annoyed at this strange being I’d been anticipating for three long days.

Just as I got to a driveway, I heard, from directly behind me.

“Oh dear. I’m still a bit green.”

By the time I pulled over I was alone.

***

It was two weeks before I heard the knock on the back window of my van again. I had just pulled into the parking lot of the local mall, and was looking for a spot. It was raining heavily and I lacked an umbrella, but I needed drugs. From the drug store for a change.

“Are you still green?” I asked.

“No.” His voice was as smooth as silk and as deep as dark chocolate.

I found a spot and backed in, hoping for a glimpse of my prince charming. When I put the van in park I saw him leaning between the front seats, in my rear-view mirror. He was stunning. Everything I had ever imagined in a man and… that voice…

“I’m yours to do with whatever you wish.” 70% Cocoa.

“Stay here then, I just have to run in…” The store was about to close.

“I also belong to your van,” he disclosed in a timbre fit for only the bedroom.

“What the…”

“I can’t leave your van.”

“So what’s the use of having a prince charming?”

“We can go parking.”

When I came back from the drug store he was gone.

**

“Why do you even bother with the chain mail?” I ask him.

“I failed as a prince charming, I thought maybe you’d like a knight in shining armor.”

“Well there was that one time…” We’re at a stop sign. I look in the mirror and see the grin I’ve come to love more than life itself.

“That was fun,” he smirks.

“Why can’t we do that again?” I ask, starting to move down the street.

“Because regardless of what you want, you NEED a knight in shining armor now.”

“What for?” I ask.

*

I open my eyes and there is a light shining above me. Florescent. A face with a mask.

“How are you feeling?” I masculine voice with raised, groomed, eyebrows.

“My van…” I croak. I barely recongise my own voice.

“Ma’am, your van was totalled. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“No!” I screech.

I want to die.

Rebirth

One - the Art of Dori Hartley

One – the Art of Dori Hartley

You say you’ve been with me all along, and now I know it’s true.

I saw you for the first time in a magazine, when I was four.

You were my imaginary friend

Though I wasn’t aware I had One.

I saw you today.

You answered me.

You sauntered down those steps and you smiled

Your hands in your pockets

Like you’d been there all along

But I suppose you have… haha

Yes

Now I know I shall see you everywhere

Acknowledging my accomplishments

Pushing me to face my fears

And you always by my side

And at night, when I ready myself for sleep

There will be you

Playing chopsticks

Incessantly

Guilded Guilt Extraordinaire

Close your mind, if you have to
But don’t forget
That there is me out here
And that I love you

(Yes, I love you too.)

Shut me out, if need be
Ignore my pleas
For attention because
You must need me, don’t you?

(Sure, okay.)

Tune me out, if I speak too loud
I’m just wanting
Some love from you
Because I love you so much

(I get it, just give me some time.)

Just leave me alone then
You obviously don’t love me
You can’t be bothered with me
I’ll just die alone

(FUCK OFF!)

Resonance

English: Single black and white feather

English: Single black and white feather (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The timbre of your voice
Rings sweetly
Touches my soul
With vibrations of ages ago

How I know your Love
blesses my spirit
I hear it surround me
Divine wishes, whispered from afar

Within your strings
Rides purity of sound
Set your gentle voice upon my heart
Sing to me forever more

L. G. Hill
@March 25, 2005
10:11pm

All for the Golden Bowl

Gold stemmed goblet with one handle. Mycenaean...

We come to sip the golden bowl
With parch’d mouths
And clear eyes
We hold aloft the nectar

We come to drink from the golden bowl
With thirsty throats
And outstretch’d arms
We hold to us the liquid

We come to gulp from the golden bowl
With drooling lips
And gripping fingers
We hold fast to the elixir

We come to worship the golden bowl
With bloodshot eyes
And quivering hands
We bind our essence to the poison

We coem to sip the gloden blwo
Wthe gaspng lungs
And usless legss
We grba on for daer life

All for the goldne bolw