Tag Archives: daily addictions

Dropping Out

 

Dropping Out

I’m tired of enlightenment, bored with my muse.
I give up on all topics that spur and enthuse.
I think I’ll be lazy for the rest of my life,
avoiding all effort and dodging all strife.

For what do I worry and ponder and seethe?
What care I for clean water and air we can breathe?
Let fools be our guides. Let them rule us all.
Let other fools follow them until they fall.

Let scientists fuss over theory and fractal.
I’ll deal with endeavors more sensual and tactile.
I’ll plot games of solitaire, fiddle with flowers,
play video games for hours and hours.

I’ll torment the cat and worry the dog,
lie in the hammock, my mind in a fog.
Let other folks solve all the world’s ills.
I’ll keep myself busy with vodka and pills.

Use avoidance to overcome all of my worries.
Let torpor eradicate all of my hurries.
I’m overlooking the problems in which the world’s mired.
If I need an excuse, It’s that I am retired.

The prompts today are seethe, guide, tactile and muse. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/10/rdp-saturday-seethe/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/10/fowc-with-fandango-guide/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/10/tactile/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/muse

The Awakening

The Awakening

She woke to a whiff of Darjeeling—that gentle caress to her nostrils that told her that Lorenzo had awakened early today. She could feel the press of his body on his side of the bed as he lay the tray there, ready for her when she was ready for it. He would not disrupt her, knowing all too well how she loved her Saturday mornings away from the press of the paparazzi and the demands of the fashion world.

On any other day, it wouldn’t be feasible to sleep in, but in addition to being a weekend, this was her birthday. She fell again into a sleep where there was no good reason for fantasy.  Her own life was fabulous enough to be replicated in dreams. Both children grown and off to their own fairytale lives: Francesca in Crete with her minor royalty husband, Sebastian a skillful artist flying from one country to the next to fulfill the long list of commissions that stretched out to infinity.

All-in-all, she herself had lived out all her childhood fantasies and only now had it become feasible to start to delegate tasks—grooming some of her most talented protégés to take over the designing and running of her couturier salon. Time to lie back and take it easy and let Lorenzo pamper her in all the ways he knew so well.

She stretched luxuriously, reaching her arm up to hit against the silk of her padded headboard, but strangely, hit instead against wood. Curious.  She opened her eyes. Light leaked into the room from between bent venetian blinds. Where was she? On the edge of the bed, a slightly paunchy old man with a day’s stubble on his cheeks sat studying the center foldout of a magazine he held at arm’s length. As she stirred, he looked up from it, his eyes widening in surprise. “Essie?”

She looked down at her own wrinkled hands, extending from the sleeve of a cheap pair of pajamas. She stroked her cheeks, dry and wrinkled , and wiped a small line of drool from the corner of her mouth. “Where am I?” Her voice felt as flaky and dry as her skin, her throat almost choking with the words.

“Yer here in Elm Gap,” he said, “where we’ve always been. Essie, do you remember what happened, yer slipping on the ice and falling sideways against the water tank?  Do you remember anythin’, Essie, of the twenty years since then?”

“Twenty years? I’ve been asleep for twenty years? What of Lorenzo and Francesca and Sebastian? Where are they?”

“They’re right here, Ma, waiting for you as usual,” a straw-haired woman said from the corner of the room. She, like her father, was rounded and nondescript—a thirtyish childlike frumpy creature much like the girl Essie had been. She was patting a tall pile of romance novels. “I been reading them to you for twenty years, Ma. You woke up just in time, cuz Ladonna LaRue, their author, just died and there won’t be any more.  But now you won’t be needing her life any more, because you’ve returned to your own. We always knew you’d return to us, Ma. This is your lucky day. And ours.

 

The prompt words today were skill, disrupt, whiff and feasible. Matt’s prompt was to create a simulated world.  Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/09/rdp-friday-skill/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/09/fowc-with-fandango-disrupt/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/09/whiff/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/feasible
For Daily Inkling’s Simulation Theory.

Dust to Rain

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

Dust to Rain

The world, my dear, is dust to rain
over and over and again.
It is as true as it is sad
that relief cannot be had
unless some travail happens first.
How can we quench unless we thirst?

Those times you go without a trace
of raindrops on your upturned face
give way to petrichor—they must
as finally rain comes down to dust.
Bountiful years follow the drought.
It is the way the world’s planned out.

Grandparents tell their younger kin
that drought is the result of sin
or hurricanes our penance for
those misdeeds the gods abhor.
But this is all mistaken lore
dispelled by whiffs of petrichor.

The prompt words for today were trace, kin, bountiful and petrichor ( the pleasant, distinctive smell frequently accompanying the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather in certain regions.)

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/08/rdp-thursday-petrichor/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/08/fowc-with-fandango-trace/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/08/kin/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/bountiful

Not Good Enough, America!!!

Not Good Enough, America!!!

Will they carve his effigy on  a golden coin
and use it for ill purposes, our country to purloin?
Will they pare back Utopia, and in their selfish carving
leave us all in danger? Leave the masses starving?
When there’s no way left to judge them, when justice has been bought,
will we all reach out too late for what we’ll wish we sought
much earlier, when there was a chance we could impeach
the ones who took Utopia farther from our reach?

 

The prompt words are danger, effigy, starve and Utopia.

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/07/fowc-with-fandango-danger/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/07/effigy/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/starve
dverse poets: Utopia

Acquisitions

If you want a closer view, click on the first photo to enlarge all.

Acquisitions

It’s all part and parcel of what I’ve been repressing—
one of those hidden vices I should have been addressing.
All those dingy corners filled with useless things.
Wondering how much happiness each hoarded object brings.
How can I glide through life carrying such a pack?
It must impede my progress with all that on my back.

There must be a reason a turtle has a shell
that enables all he glides through to slide off him as well.
He doesn’t amass fortune or any worldly thing.
Each day he starts anew to see what it might bring.
Perhaps in my next life I’ll be less of a hoarder.
and in the life I’m finishing I’ll be a better sorter.

One pile for donations, another I will sell.
Another, objects for old friends I know will love them well.
One pile for Yolanda and one for Pasiano.
Old pictures for my sister to put on her piano.
Rings for all my nieces and earrings for my friends.
When it comes to shoes, the pile never ends.

When it is all sorted, the clothes all hung on racks,
knickknacks on the tables and records piled in stacks,
I’ll open up garage doors and let the masses in
to sort through all the boxes and plow through every bin.
And when the weekend’s over—the chaos and the din,
I’ll start amassing more and start the process all again!

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/06/rdp-tuesday-parcel/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/06/fowc-with-fandango-repress/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/06/dingy/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/ glide

The Fruits of Nature

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The Fruits of Nature

Wind chimes in the autumn by stripping bare the trees.
A vine of clouds now choke the moon. Stars fill the sky like bees.
Summer is clearly over and arctic winds are coming.
Small squirrels mine the oak tree with their insistent drumming.
Our backyard orchard gives its last small shelter to the birds
although its leafy plumage is diminished now by thirds.
Where months before small families chirped their hunger to the skies,
empty nests have been laid bare to marauding eyes.
No danger now, unless the murderous blue jay stores away
the memory of their placements for a future day.
The trees stand strong and sturdy, their roots below entwined,
watching one more old year steadily unwind.
What new pleasure in this scene will we newly find
once all the fruits of  nature are pared down to the rind?

The word prompts today are: chime, over, arctic, oak tree, orchard  and this sketch by Kira. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/05/rdp-monday-chime/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/05/fowc-with-fandango-over/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/kiras-sunday-scribbles-15/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44/arctic
Welcome to Kira’s weekly inspirational art piece.
https://normalhappenings.com/2018/11/05/the-old-oak-tree-daily-inkling/the old oak tree
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/daily-addictions-2018-week-44orchard

Our Newest Emperor’s New Clothes

Our Newest Emperor’s New Clothes

How do we mentor our burgeoning youth
in these times of extraordinary stretchings of truth?
Teach them to sort out these rash acts of treason,
to approach them with heart and strain them through reason.
Teach them hating is wrong and exclusion is selfish—
that plastic’s destroying our coral and shellfish.

That medical care should be something for all
and that hoarding of wealth brings a country’s last fall.

Teach them the future is theirs to decide.
Teach them the truth of whom to deride.
Teach them that facts being taught by their teachers
may rival what they’re being taught by some preachers
and those who would rule to win their own gain,
lining their pockets again and again
with tax cuts that only extend to the rich
while the trickle down theory develops a hitch.

Teach them to sort out rhetoric from fact.
Teach them to care and to vote and to act
to stretch out the privilege to blanket us all.
We are not alone on this spinning great ball.
Our former meddling and incredible gall
is why we’re considering building a wall
to keep out the hungry and frightened downtrodden
who come to us weary, exhausted and sodden.

They ask for asylum and our protection
from dictators who have prompted defection
much as many Americans are fleeing south
to avoid the stupidity and the vile mouth
of the dictator who is now ruining our land
with illogical thinking and truth that is canned.
Who will mentor whom in this crazy new world
once the last hateful invectives are hurled?


Our world has been sold out for profit and gain—

overseen by leaders opportunistic and vain.
Perhaps it’s our youth who will now mentor us
to sort out the truth from this internet fuss.
As in the old legend, They’ll teach the uncouth

to forsake propaganda for naked truth.
It’s hoped that our youth wake us up from our doze
to point out the truth of our Emperor’s new clothes!!

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/rdp-sunday-mentor/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/04/fowc-with-fandango-extraordinary/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/burgeon/