The Empty Corpse

On the Givers and Takers and doormats of the world:

 Lost in thought

buried in thought

so many idea and words and pictures

an endless chain of might have beens

tied around my neck

a noose

dropped over my head

by hands who were glad I was there

and thankful that  I was such

an understanding friend

right up to the end.

One Shell

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I have cracked open a lot of eggs in my time  but I have never cracked one open and had two yolks plop out.

I know that there are lots of stories about double yolkers that involve death, fertility and big hens but that aside it is pretty cool to have something out of the ordinary turn up in your kitchen while  you’re waiting for you toast to pop up.

 

Two Hundred and Six Bones

Tongues in torment

brain cells starving in darkness

vacant eyes

and necks bent in permanent  subjugation  to  the  Gods who dwell  in the hills of Bellevue and are housed in finery by Lake Union.

 

The human body

a vessel for technology to travel by

an over designed mode of transportation for a bit of light and sound trapped in plastic.

 

206 bones, six liters of blood, six million years of evolution

all promised to next years model

a phone in a case bedazzled and cared for

slimmer, faster and more desirable

then we will ever be

to each other.

 

The Duck Pond

This was inspired by a Writing Prompt where you pick three spooky words and write a poem or story based on the words.

I chose Banshee, Corrupted and Creep.

 

Banshee blood

corrupted, cursed and revolting

it’s pooling in a pond where I used to feed  the ducks.

 

Who will cage it?

will anyone  swim in it?

Who will watch it creep towards the shore?

Will anybody grab a bucket, sponge scream out in fear

more likely then not

everyone will  pretend as if it’s not there.

 

Banshee blood

corrupt,  cursed and revolting

I wonder if the Ducks that I used to feed

wished it wasn’t there.