outraged electricity
washes in through the ether
making everything prickly
unsettling my brain
the walls are buzzing
i can’t concentrate
can’t sit
must be up and about
so hooded and wrapped
i stalk wet november streets
a restless wraith trying to make sense
of a world gone mad
the rain almost springlike
cools the crackling heat
of breaking hearts starving bodies
but cannot dissolve the shadows coiling
snakelike round my chest
they constrict my breath
my heart pounds the staccato rhythm
of too much caffeine too much uncertainty
too little sleep
where are the words of passion
and tenderness aching to be written
the unrest i'm inhaling
takes my thoughts elsewhere
so i walk in november rain
focused on nothing but breathing
There was a magician who performed sleight-of-hand tricks on a cruise ship. He had a regular spot in the ship's evening cabaret.
He was actually quite a good magician, but his routines were regularly ruined by the on-board parrot who would fly around squawking and giving away his secrets like:
"IT'S UP HIS SLEEVE, IT'S UP HIS SLEEVE!"
"IT'S IN HIS POCKET, IT'S IN HIS POCKET!"
"IT'S IN HIS MOUTH, IT'S IN HIS MOUTH!"
The magician was getting pretty sick of it and threatened to kill the parrot if it ruined his act one more time. That evening, at the climax of his act, just as he was about to disappear in a puff of smoke,
There was a competition in Spain to discover the world’s greatest swordsman was.The final three competitors had been chosen and were brought on stage.
One of the judges released a small black fly and it buzzed around the stage. The first swordsman stepped forward. With a flick of his wrist faster than you can blink the fly hit the ground in two pieces. The audience cheered wildly.
The second swordsman steps forward. Another fly was released and in two swift motions he cut the fly into four pieces.The audience was even more impressed and gave the man a standing ovation.
A vicious wind hurls raindrops and bits
of aborted April branches studded with
leafbuds that will never bloom against the
screens with the unconscious artistry of
an expressionist in a trance, all the while
singing in a familiar voice I can't quite
place. Echoing in a neuron corridor
littered with the leftovers of another life
begging to be remembered. But the
synapses are too wet to fire.
Out of the corner of my eye I catch the
smoky outline of a man I thought was you
but isn't. But he has a way about him. Or
maybe he doesn't. Maybe it's just the
leftovers of desire aborted when you fell
into the unmarked grave I visit in my
dreams and decorate with the parts of me
i have no car
and i'm in desperate need
of a ride
and i'd like you
to be the one to drive me -
crazy
over the edge
off the cliff
straight into the mindless abyss
of ecstasy
i want to be the hitchhiker
you pick up
on the side of the highway
that has so many names
call it what you like
i'm well beyond
shame and shyness now
all i know
is that you're driving
the car i want to ride in
around every curve
and straight on into forever
In an email from @ChrisMurphyCT
Read it. All of it,
“The first thing that seemed wrong was how fast the Republican floor staffer was moving toward Senator Chuck Grassley.
She abruptly rustled him from his seat in the front row of the chamber and motioned that he quickly ascend to the dais, to relieve Vice President Mike Pence in the chair.
This transition from Pence to Grassley as presiding officer was expected, so maybe few people noticed anything out of the ordinary. But to me, the pace at which Pence was exiting the chamber seemed alarming.