Distractions

“aint no such thing
as the calm of the evenin’
an that quiet you hear
is a trick..”
as the words disappear
and the sirens get screamin’
they splinter the silence
right quick..

on the corner, the new crop
the young ‘gits is slangin’
they dope or they bitches
or both..
as they mamas light votive’s
pray the gods have forgiven
their freshly dead son’s
bloody oath..

as neighborhoods molder
under trash and addiction
punctuated by bullets-
pop pop..
we busy ourselves
with designer distractions
going green,, and how local
we shop….

Word of the Day Challenge- oath

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A degree of normalcy

Who ever you are, whatever you’re doing, Merry Christmas..

“Hey there Suga’,, com’ere com’ere com’ere, you looking for a date for Christmas Eve?

“Fine then- go, get the H E double hockey sticks off my street while you still can- GO!”

“Com’ere, com’ere, com’ere, Suga’, I bet you got some candy- and I’m just dyin’ for something sweet to eat..”

(Santa Baby ringtone)

“Hey Baby, you should be asleep already, you know Santa’s coming tonight, and I’m out here looking for him right now, so I can tell him where we’re living, so he can bring you all the stuff you told him you wanted..”

“I know, I know  Baby, I miss you too- and I love YOU soooo much and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“We ARE gonna have a real Christmas- well, I don’t know about a tree, but- NO you do not open the door to anyone- I don’t care if it is Santa Claus!!”

Courtesy of Six Sentence Stories- Sugar

Wedded Bliss

Photo: Susan Spaulding

“Nachos, peanuts, and beer are concession stand staples, Helen. Throw in a hot dog, and you got a trifecta. Sushi ain’t snack food. It’s bait.”

“Well I was just trying to think of a healthier finger food option they might have. That’s all. You don’t have to make it sound so gross.”

“That’s me Helen, Mr. Gross. You should know that by now, Grossity gross. Grosser than gross. I am where America goes for gross. Ugh! Do you want anything or not?”

“Saturated fat, trans fat, refined sugar, nitrates, nitrites, antibiotics,  and that’s just the first five items on the menu. Don’t you care at all what you are putting in your body?”

“I’ll take that for a no.”

“I’ll also take a couple a hotdogs, loaded. An order a nachos, extra cheese sauce and a cold, 32 ounce beer.”

“Last chance Helen, going going gone…..”

“Look at you! You’ve already dripped nacho sauce on your new jersey. You’re a disgrace.”

“Life is too short, Helen. You wake up one morning and people that you love are dead. I don’t have time to be a disgrace.”

“Here take a big ol’ bite of this. The nitrates’ll help take the edge off….”

Word Count: 200

Photo prompt courtesy of Sunday Photo Fiction

loss of appetites

born soul on fire,
most will never understand
call it plague
call it blessing
even I can’t comprehend

it’s every incarnations
resurrected twisted form
call it foreign
call it familiar
from life extracted, not rebourne

incandescent soul undaunted
scorched desire still to shine
call it art
call it addiction
bring to life my cluttered mind

unique not in my cravings
by yearnings still condemned
call them drugs
call them lovers
same obsession in the end

freed from such compulsions
now enslaved in my own head
call it manic
call it phobic
loss of appetites dual edge

secluded from the real world
in abstention freedom’s found?
call it heaven
call it hell
it’s just where I am now

Prompt courtesy of MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt- Recovery

Shared on Promote Yourself Monday on Go Dog Go Café

Mariska


Juliusz Słowacki Theatre in Krakow, Poland.

Mariska was no one’s wife. She was no one’s mother. She wasn’t an inspiring cook or homemaker. She did not knit or sew, nor define herself by any trending motif or couture.

She wore the starched black uniform and crisp white apron of her chosen profession with humble pride. She brushed the lint from every coat with gracious dignity. She offered each gently perfumed hand towel with the deportment due a royal. And never- did she speak of what she saw or heard while in the performance of her duties.

She amassed few friends, and time had long since relieved her of any familial entanglements, but none of that could tarnish the existential feeling of accomplishment she experienced as she set the orange cone behind her nondescript gray sedan in the Employee of the Month Parking space and headed into the entrance of the Juliusz Słowacki Theatre– to attend the Ladies Lounge.

Photo Prompt courtesy of What Pegman Saw