Untitled for now

Went through the muck and mire
Of memories I thought perspired
But no matter where I go
Thoughts of you just flow
Round the river bend and back in again

I wander because I wonder
If you think of me too
They say it all gets better
But there are the letters
Love and Lust and "Forever" stamps
Neatly bundled by rubber bands
That tell different stories
Of a past I unearthed
An aborted future unbirthed

And I can't remember why
And I can't remember why

Dog Dreams

The other day, I dreamt I was my dog. My light, golden fur was shining brightly, reflecting off the sun. Indoors, my fur would be a bit darker - part of it is a duller gold and other parts are merely a light brown. A tennis ball rolled down the driveway, toward an old silver fence that remained closed by a string hooking the gate together. I ran down the driveway, in pursuit of the ball. Past the spot where the ex-family dog was accidentally killed by one of the family cars backing up. But of course, I didn’t know that. In fact, I don’t think I was born yet. It continued rolling like a skee ball, only it wasn’t going up a ramp – the driveway was fairly straight. Thank goodness for that.

The tennis ball’s momentum stopped when I found my mouth around it. That was it. Game, set, match. I’m a regular Roger Federer. As I turn my head around toward the house, curious as to who had rolled the ball, my eyes gazed downward before I knew what to make of it. Another tennis ball was coming my way.

What to do, what to do? I quickly analyze the situation in my head: once something is in motion, it stays in perpetual motion? Is that right? Whatever, I’m a dog. I’m getting that ball and if I play my cards right, I could have both of them. I drop whatever’s currently in my mouth and run for the moving object. Within a few seconds, it’s game, set, match all over again. I saunter over toward the shade where I had dropped the other ball near the end of the driveway.  As I prepare to enjoy my spoils, I stop. It’s not there. I look up.

My owner has it now. He seems a little disgusted at the saliva attached to it. I really don’t mind. What I do mind is the status quo. Is it true? Do you want something more when you can’t have it? What’s the point of having a billion dollars when everyone else does? This is too much for me. I just want that ball.

Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 10

I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!


Prompt: Pretend to be Someone Else


Sometimes I wish I was someone else
So I pretend to be someone else
Selfish, delusional, mind's all pollutional
And yeah, gotta let you know
Wanna be someone with a better flow
All grown up, caution to the wind
Who fails but says "I win"


Fuck, I wish that was me
Cause sometimes I can't believe this is me
Wanting something more
Not wanting to be this
But all I got is a wish
That I wake up, thinkin this is good
And one day, it won't be so cruel
But for now, I got my other face
To face today and those other days

Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 9

I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!


Prompt: Write about the pleasures of home.


On my way home, I've gotten lost again. Where I've been, I don't know. I was too busy looking at the ground. And I never knew to keep my head straight. But there's something beautiful happening tonight.


I'm no longer scared
Of all these troubles I bear


My youth returns to me. And I can make it home. To a place I've never been. But it feels like home.


So there's something beautiful happening tonight. If I can hold it longer for that something right.
On my way home, I've gotten lost again. Because I've never been there.


But there's something right
That's happening tonight

Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 8

I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!

Prompt: Have a Conversation with Death

MYLO: Death, what was it like? For you?
DEATH: To die?
MYLO: No, to live.
DEATH: I don't know if I was ever alive.
MYLO: But you know death?
DEATH: No.
MYLO: That's your name.
DEATH: And what is your name?
MYLO: Mylo.
DEATH: So what does it mean to be Mylo?
MYLO: I don't know. I'm still figuring it out.
DEATH: Okay then.

 --

MYLO: What's your favorite memory?
DEATH: There once was this flower that smelled so sweet. I heard colors and saw sounds. Can you imagine hearing the color red?
MYLO: What happened to that flower?
DEATH: I keep it in my pocket.
MYLO: Is it dead?
DEATH: No, nothing ever dies. You see, my job is quite easy.

Write Starts: Creative Prompts to get You Writing! Part 7

I recently received a wonderful gift: a thin journal filled with the most randomly outrageous and mundane prompts, all in the hopes to get the writer inside of me to write. I will do my best to fill this book. I'll keep this short and sweet. Now let's go!

Prompt: Create a scene where important things are said without dialogue.

Summer. Now it snows. It's dark. On a field. It's snowing but none of it reaches the ground. Lovely. Lonely. She stands. Lonely. In a black sun dress. Floral patterns. Down to her knees.

We love her. We've known her for all our lives. She is us. We've dreamed of her, we've been her.

She looks up at the moon as it rests gently among the heavens. She wonders, as we often wonder, why we're here. What's the reason that when snow falls, we feel the pang of its coldness? We wonder, as she often wonders, why moments like this can't last forever. And when we wonder this, we can never fully capture the beauty of that moment. Always fleeting, a little beyond but so close that we keep striving.

Beauty, beauty.

We know what you are but we're so far from understanding you.

"Hold me close, don't let me go. And maybe when the moon rests on top of us, the sun will never find us."