What right things lead to
A small sound was buzzing so light, yet so clear,
Becoming a tune as Snazy approached near,
The old busted bar with the dim, blinking sign,
Some song there was playing, one hard to define.
A voice with a pitch so pure, loud, and new,
Like a crack in the silence, a sudden breakthrough.
She glanced at the window and right there she saw,
The sweet southern cowboy, eyes closed, singing tall.
But before she could move, the man looked up to see,
Two bright gleaming eyes staring back from Snazy.
The butterflies jumped in her stomach that turned,
Right upside down for the man whom she yearned.
Her feet moved so fast without thought, she then ran,
Away from the bar, far away from the man.
"How embarrassing!" Snazy shouted out to the sky,
But her smile grew bigger without quite knowing why.
A glimpse of the sun, peaking out from behind,
The usual grey clouds that she grew to not mind,
Made her realize how fast her heart skipped a beat,
For that country boy singer she was dying to meet!
She sat in the diner, her thoughts scattered far,
After ordering her blueberry pancake she saw,
A man crouched and lonely on the bench right outside,
She noticed his weakness, his hunger that cried,
From beneath the dark shadows that set on his face,
Something had to be done in order to replace,
The emptiness lurking above and beneath,
The man filled with nothing but deep sighs of grief.
In half of a moment she walked out the door,
Giving food to the homeless man, needing it more.
"I overlook all the things that I have here,
Taking good life for granted, not facing my fear,
A great opportunity to see what could be,
I can't run away from a true love story."
So she turned right around and thought it all through,
Following her heart toward the love that she knew.
5 comments:
As Mrs. Flogsbottom trudged up the windy street to Manny's Grocery, she couldn't help but notice a black van circling the street every once and a while. It must be a group of people who are utterly in love with me, she thought, watching the van slowly pass her. They know what I am about to do, but in my rage I will not go to their waiting arms! I must fight with Achilles but I will not betray him to people who ride around in a rather ugly van....
Mrs. Flogsbottom almost dreaded seeing the faint sign of Manny's come to view; this was going to be a very tricky chapter. She had to fight with him, but not too much. He couldn't be so very mad that he would not ever forgive, or take more than 2 chapters to get over- Chapter seven was fast approaching, and she needed everything to be perfect! Walking into the creaking door of the store, Mrs. Flogsbottom looked around for her love.
The annoying girl at the counter was smacking her loud pink gum and smirked slightly as she saw Mrs. Flogsbottom's dress. Green and pink plaid hearts littered the the white dress she wore with her matching hot pink cat shaped bag. Mrs. Flogsbottom had no time to flirt with that floozy, so she walked down aisle. Achilles was on his knees putting milk back on the shelves. His lily white butt crack peeked over the rim of his pants, but Mrs. Flogsbottom averted her eyes, pain before pleasure. Achilles looked up and smiled. "Why hello Mrs. Flogsbottom! What a perfect day to see such a lovely lady." He said.
Mrs. Flogsbottom stopped... He wasn't supposed to be nice, didn't he know the chapter??? She flicked her nose up sexually but also angry. "It's a horrible day, is the day all you think about?" She asked, folding her arms in front of her. Achilles looked at her confused.
"No, I like the night too-" He started, trying to make a joke, but Mrs. Flogsbottom cut in.
"Yes, I'm sure you would, I have heard about you Achilles Manus! I know the type of man you are! How could I ever have thought we were meant to be if you go off with your dime store floozys! Well I cannot take this anymore, I am a real woman and I need something only a real man can give me. You know where I live when you finally decide to be a man!" Mrs. Flogsbottom said, storming out of the grocery store.
It was perfect, better than she could have hoped. They had fought, very briefly, but she said all she had to say, now it was only waiting for another chapter or two for him to come around. Henrietta wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and began to walk home.
Her attention was distracted by the ever present black van, and she nearly ran over Snazy Filazy.
"Oh I'm sorry dear!" She said, wait, this is the girl that rhymes... "My eye sight was not clear!" Henrietta smiled at her clever rhyme. "Now, uh, what are you doing out here?"
Snazy looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "There is a man, fine as can be, but I acted like a cat too scared who climbed up a tree. He plays the guitar, I think he can go far. But I cannot even talk to him, he makes my mind and heart swim!"
Henrietta thought Snazy was simply trying to cover her feelings for Henriette- everyone had them, why not this peculair rhyming girl?
Henrietta patted her hand. "Dear, there are other fish in the sea, if yours is taken, which I know 'he' is, than maybe you should look for another one." With a final wave Mrs. Flogsbottom left Snazy and continued her way home.
Snazy opened her mouth as if to say something but stopped. Poor girl, I broke her heart... Well, that is life. Now, I must wait.... oh dear, I do hate waiting... But Mrs. Flogsbottom knew she could wait, she would have to. Love could wait a long time... but not too long. She turned her head as the van passed again.
The noise of the crowded bar didn't stop Leroy from singing any different than he always did. He never let anything ever distract him while he was in his concert mode. People continued about their drunken conversations...which often revolved around criticizing Leroy. He didn't need much attention. He was used to not getting much from the people in the bar by now but he still had hope. He was reaching the final verse of his last song when he felt something unfamiliar. His eyes were closed as usual, but something felt different. It was like that feeling he got when he slept over at Cullen's once a long time ago. He was lying in bed- it felt like somebody was looking at him. He opened his eyes. Sure enough it was Cullen sittin there staring at him-waiting for him to wake up and play catch. Leroy tried to ignore the feeling... nobody was paying him any attention. Every time he's opened his eyes during a tune... all he gets are backs and side conversations. No eye contact. He felt it more. Somebody was looking at him. He opened his eyes to two eyes gazing into his. Not knowing quite how to react, he closed them back after a few seconds. How embarassin, he thought. That girl was kinda cute too. What was I thinking! Maybe she liked my song. Maybe she was readin my lips and learnin the words!
He thought about what to do. Should he open his eyes back? Why did he feel so funny? He got another feeling as he pictured the girl in his mind. It was different than eyes beating on him like the feeling before. It was more like being at the top of a roller coaster- having all those butterflies in your stomach and stuff. He opened his eyes. She was gone. Dag nab it. He'd lost his only could-be fan. Where'd she go? Why'd she leave? He thought. Why did he even care if she left... everyone else does all the time. Something was different about her. He hoped he'd see her again. He hoped she liked his songs too.
Charlie woke up to his head throbbing and the noises of Ms. Wong banging pots and pans. He let out an enormous sigh, and then he started to pick the pieces of dried blood from his straight black hair.
"You fall Charlie?" Ms. Wong asked.
"Yeah, I fell onto a curb last night. I'm okay now though. How are you?" Charlie said.
"Good Good. You get to work okay?" she said.
"Alright. I got it," he said.
Charlie busted his ass all day making ungodly amounts of Sesame Chicken and Stir-Fried rice. When he was on his break, he stepped outside to have a cigarette. As he happily puffed away on his cancer stick he noticed a strange black van drive past twice in a row. Charlie would have been more alarmed but these days nothing really seemed normal. He couldn't stop thinking about his mom, why did all these weird things keep happening to him?
His head hurt now. He felt light headed, and stumbled to the nearest corner store to buy a forty. Liquor could usually make the pain go away, and if that couldn't help, there was always some weed. He chugged the crisp Colt 45 down in three big gulps. He felt better now and walked back into work.
When he finished cleaning up the store, he gathered up his cash that he kept in that old coffee can and stepped out. It started to sleet, but Charlie welcomed the harsh weather cause it kept the god damn police busy. He needed about 30 spray paint cans to complete the job, but first he needed to check out the warehouse to see where he could throw up the art.
As soon as Charlie got to the warehouse he knew where he would do it. There was an entire wall untouched by the small time artists, and he knew what colors he wanted. The sunlight would hit the wall just right at dusk, and the red and white roses would look very choice against the bland brown the warehouse was painted. Charlie quickly sketched out the plans for his masterpiece and was surprised when his sketch book started to get wet. He soon realized that he was crying because of his mother, and he let the tears flow.
Then he rose to his feet, and started walking towards the hardware store in the next town over to get his paint. He felt a strange quiver come over him as he passed a young lady sitting on a bench. It was none other than Snazzy Filazy, a sweet girl that frequented the Chinese place. But when he looked into her face, her eyes were crying blood. Streams of hot, red blood streamed down her face, and she looked deep into his eyes.
"Your mother misses you Charlie, make haste, don't forget your mission," she said.
"Holy fucking shit!" Charlie screamed, and before Snazzy could react Charlie was three blocks away.
"Well gosh, what was his problem?" Snazzy said. She, of course, was not crying blood.
Charlie stopped running and leaned against a building while he caught his breath. He knew these images wouldn't stop until he completed the mission. He straightened up, brushed off his clothes, and got back on the road to the hardware store.
The sun was setting now, and Charlie couldn't help but notice the sky's blood red color. Like the whole world was bleeding. He knew what he had to do.
Brone Barnheart Apt. 223
I was not walking in the rain, today it was sleeting. My feet decided it was a wonderful day for a walk, and there was really no point in arguing. “It didn’t have rabies in its life, I swear!” the tiny taxidermist trying to hustle me, as always. “Nah, it’s just not for me” I responded, and shuffled on. As I passed the laundry mat the owner shot me a look. I rolled my eyes and continued on, figuring I was not welcome. The glass doors retracted as I entered. I smelled that distinctly sickening smell of purified air and pine tree scent. Capitalism at it’s finest. “Welcome to Manny’s,” A pimply faced teen said with complete apathy, smacking her gum. Suddenly I felt as if I had the urge to go somewhere. I quickly turned left walked a ways and then turned left again. “Oh, of course.” I was staring at Manny’s shoddy looking Alcohol section. “Hmmm, a 7$ no name-brand vodka….” It was tempting. I went back and got a basket. After gabbing 3 bottles of the no name vodka I went and got 2 cartons of orange juice. I may be able to hold my liquor but I’m no maniac. Besides, it will make it last an extra day, maybe. I approached the teenager at the register. She looked at my basket, and then she looked at me, frowning.
“Sir, are you 21?” My expression turned cold,
“I’m 28.”
“I need to see some proof.” It was at this point I realized that Michael was currently changing the name on my I.D. for no particular reason. This was going to be a pain.
“Have you ever tried to clean up shards of window pane with a broom?” I said.
“You don’t scare me,” she retorted, blowing a bubble.
“…”
“…” It popped.
“…I have a gun.” I finally said.
“Re-Really?!” her face brightened up.
“Uh, ya.”
“Can I see it!!” she was way too excited.
“Huh?”
“Come on, lemmie see you gun!” She got louder. I hate kids.
“Calm down asshat”
“PLEEEEAAAASE?” People were starting to stare.
“Alright look, ring up my stuff and I’ll wave it around for you.” I said.
“Really?” She was like a puppy that needed to be kicked.
“yeah….really.” I said.
“AWESOME” She finally rang up my stuff.
“That’ll be, 35.31.”
I wonder if my wallet has any money. I checked. A new 100 was staring me in the face. “huh…” I gave the twerp the hundred, and she quickly returned my change.
"Now can you show me?”
“Nope, Bye!” I grabbed my grocery bag and sprinted out of the door. She couldn’t even react, all just part of the job. I kept running though for fear she would chase me down.
Then I saw a little girl skipping ahead,
And without a second thought I jumped high overhead.
As I landed my bottles clinked and rattled.
She looked surprised so I thought it best to skedaddle.
Back in my apartment I drank many drinks.
Then I fell asleep, me thinks…Hic.
"Flicker, flicker, the lights always flicker."
"Never, never, shall I sing, never."
"OK, OK, my lovely sweet babe, OK."
A big flashing neon sign reading "WHAT THE HELL?" flickered in Naublus' mind. Consequently, he veiled his posied scalp so that the radiation didn't reach the outside world. You see, the outside world is plotting against him. He never knows when they'll pull his big toe out or make his eyeball into jewelry. Oh, how he feared the use of his body parts! Of course, the material with which he covered them was newspaper, old, yellowed newspaper. On his feet, a pristine Caribbean beach with cannibals. On his head, a 95-year-old Holocaust survivor doing aerobics in a pink sports bra. (Naublus loved sports bras -- he stole one three years before, and he's never taken it off since). On his left hand, an advertisement for men's shaving razors. On his right, Christy Brinkley advertising the Make-A-Wish Foundation.
Naublus was proud of his attire. He thought it a testament to his creativity and eclectic taste in aesthetics. Naublus remembered the temple frescoes of his native land. The forests seemed to extend their arms to embrace him. The dizzying patterns reminded him of his mother, and the shiny turquoises, burgundies, and terra cotas matched the sprightly movement of his feet.
Naublus liked to spin in place. Often, in his corner of the SMARTA station, he would spin uncontrollably constantly yelling, "Wassup! Wassup! Wassup! Wassup!" to passers-by. The passengers thought him a mentally-ill man from the 3rd century. Naublus kept on spinning regardless. "Wassup! Wassup! Wassup! Wassup!" As he spun, always with his left foot planted, he never got dizzy and flailed his arms up and down.
It was 5:45 p.m. Rush hour. The swarm of squirrels invaded Naublus' station, nobody looking to the side, everybody focuses on the prize -- where they needed to be next. It was quite a prize, but Naublus didn't get that. Like a solo autumn leaf, twenty-something year-old girl skipped to Naublus corner, grabbing his hands to strike a waltz pose. She joined him in his spinning. She sang, dazed, "It's love! It's love! It's love! It's love!" She filled the half-beat that Naublus "wassup's" left blank.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Naublus mind flickered, as street lights do in the apocalypse. This girl, naive as a moth, crushed his solitude, stained it, made it bleed. It was a new life for Naublus. People could in fact exist.
Snazy and Naublus spun until the end of time.
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