Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Transformation
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The Glowing Rose is a tavern on the outskirts of town. Just past it, little over a mile, the road runs out. If a body were traveling through those heavily wooded parts, they’d see the border of another country soon enough. The old timers, though, have a hard time leaving their homes. “I’ve spent all…
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Selective memory has atrophied the ability to see situations clearly.But do we not do the things one ought to do?Like? Like paying bills.Playing it safe.The What-If Game takes up more and more of our time as we find ourselves stuck in a groove from decades ago just like the old timers we once despised.The mirror…
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We stared at a map on the wallDuring a break from paying our dues Just you and me and the man in the treeLens focused on capturing what cannot be seenA howl from the other room warned of a time to comeThat would define us all too soon Like brilliant silver light from a dying…
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there’s a hollow place that fills the space in which you once presidedwoodland imagessisters gathered at a picnic tablebeers all around and one glass of wine strange inflection on second syllableshands that were the object of a stranger’s admirationa son whose name is the same as my own your journey now is one of real…
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Bitti is broken. Art is her tether to this tenuous moment, and he packed up and left town last week. Where does our mind wander when dreams die? Do we become the catalyst of our own demise? Bitti loves what she loves and accepts the risks. She got what she asked for, so she has…
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Hey '23! Embrace the new role of Chief Intuitioner. Set the intention to create, not ruminate. Read more, scroll less. Doom is in the eye of the idle. Don't expect the goal line to move toward you. A wish that leaves no heartbeat quickened is bound to become another daydream that'll lead you further from…
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Careful! Your cracks have all come together to form a persona that can no longer hide behind excuses. That high-shine exoskeleton showcases your fear and frustration, which are listed on your résumé as your finest attributes. A big contribution you've always been to the construction of luxury silos, each resplendent with its very own patch…
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So traumatized Chuck still works the mines.A poet's soul with hardened arteries.The company doesn't pay Chuck for his turn of phrase and artist's heart. It's a tough task to write the perfect stanza when crafted in the arc of a headlamp.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 