Material Sounds

Prompt – Song

Music – If These Trees Could Talk – Above the Earth, Below the Sky


In my dreams you’re always singing the song

The music is always right there,

In my bedroom, in my bed, lying next to me it seems

And your voice lays over it, so serene.

Sometimes you don’t sing,

It’s only music then

And we float away to another land.

We can dance the night away,

From the kitchen to the clouds.

We exist above material sounds.

In those moments

I can feel it in my soul,

The music makes me complete

In your arms and your eyes

I get lost every time.

The music tells me it’s ok,

Your song tells me you’re ok,

Whether we’re together in these dreams

Forever or never.

Sometimes I wish I knew the song was for me.

Sweet as it may be,

These aren’t reality after all.

And my mind starts working,

Over thinking,

The way it does,

And we fall.

Just like our song.

Falling, falling.

What will happen when we hit the ground?

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Spin Me Away

Sunday! Again and again.

I didn’t do this last Sunday because of family issues (and Easter, we can say Easter) so WordPress is obviously making me pay because …

Prompt – Thwart

Music – Fantastic Negrito – Shuffling on Spotify (seriously, just shuffle, he’s amazing)

Ok, 10 minutes on thwart … here we go …

You thwart me

At every turn, every spin

We practiced this dance

Night on night

But now that we’re here

You look away

Into the eyes of another

Does she feel like me?

You spin me away

Thwarted again.

I can feel the steady heat

Climbing from across the room

Dancers unaware

Of this crumbling routine.

I find the hands of others

But none move just like yours.

Round and round

The circle we go.

Til at last

At each other’s throats we go.

You spin me away

Thwarted again.

I pull strangers close

But their fingers won’t wander

Just like yours.

Slow and steady

Down my back and over my thighs.

I can feel the steady jealousy

Seething from across the room.

Round and round

The circle we go

Til at last …

Bow and begin again.

Bitter Pills

Yet another Sunday, it’s the end of March. What the hell?

Prompt- Swallow

Music: Wooden Shjips – Back To Land

Swallow your pride, it’s a bitter pill but it’s better this way.
Say the things you know will sting, slaps against the grain.
Anything to make you walk away.
Swallow arsenic words, poisonous to all around us.
Implode.
Anything to protect you from the mess I’ve become.
He was right you know,
Selfishness choked me on the way down
And I never deserved you.
Spin me into sweet melodies,
They slide down easier than reality.
Anything to hide the truth of what we’ve done.
Once I tried to take a handful of bitter pills
To forget your name, forget your face,
Forget the way I had you stamped in that place.
I fell down, busted my brain instead.
Now my thoughts leak and blend fact with fiction,
I can’t tell anymore what was real and what was just part of the mission.
All because we tried to swallow little bitter pills,
Is it better this way?
I hear they have a pill to answer
To straighten out our brains.
I don’t know, what do you think?
Maybe seeing stars isn’t a bad thing
If the answer is swallowing our pride
And staying side by side.


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Patience Is a Virtue Dear

Sunday, every week ….

Prompt: Patience

Music: I couldn’t settle on one thing today so I picked a playlist on Spotify called Brain Food, it says it’s hypnotic electronic.

Patience

I’m drowning beneath the fluctuating, undulating, slowly rolling
Crushing weight of this water.

It holds me hostage, tied down by sunlight streaming, reflecting, breaking
Against the seams of who I am.

It strangles me with icy grips, threatening to rip me apart;
Pieces of paper against the downpour, soaked and floating.

Be patient is what they say, what’s meant to be …
May never have been meant for me.

But my mom taught me well,
Patience is a virtue, that’s the story they tell.

So sit with your drowning, collapsing fears.
Hold tight to your scrambling, screaming soul.

After all, patience is a virtue dear
And rescue is never near.

We grasp the daydreams
So that we become the reality.

What’s meant to be speeds overhead
Never realizing, missing, the last bubbling stand.

Sit tight with that patience there.
Help, well help is over there.

Not watching for your drowning hand,
Or your fleeting splashes.

Everything that’s meant to be
Is tied by seaweed,

Held strong to the collapsing floor;
The thin barrier between always there and nothing more.

10 minutes done.

The Rain Is Coming

Sunday! 

A note for the curious: Daylight savings time does not work on biological clocks. 

Prompt: Meander

Music: Nine Inch Nails: Not The Actual Events

Rivers meander through the woods.

I splash through them in ratty old shoes and uncombed hair.

If I can just follow the babbling stream,

Follow to where the siren voices are calling me.

Dirty fingers clutch my ancient stuffed bear,

A toy from generations before.

His stuffing is busting from the frayed seems in his neck

But I love him anyway.

My constant companion.

The water splashes around my ankles,

Stabbing me with sharp, cold droplets.

How long till the rain comes?

The small stream won’t meander through the woods then.

The storms feed it,

Grow it like a monster in your dreams.

Soon it laps at the edges of our safe spaces.

I have to make it to a safe space before it rains.

Once it starts it will never stop.

The rocks along the bank are slick

But I have to stay close.

If I lose the meandering stream

The rain will surely get me too.

My beloved companion, clutched by an arm,

Is losing steam.

His seams …

Are ripping, falling.

We’re leaving a trail of stuffing.

There’s not time for me to consider,

My young mind knows we should be more careful

But I can smell the rain.


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The Grave Robber’s Dress

Sunday Funday … or something like that

Prompt – Fabric

Music – City of the Sun on Spotify shuffle

July passed the light fabric between her thin fingers. Black with big brush stroke sunflowers, how odd.

The skirt flowed down from her grip, a dark waterfall with pops of yellow and brown to remind everyone that this wasn’t what it seemed.

It couldn’t be.

The young woman’s make up seemed to accent the point. Ruby red lips and a smoky eye, the oddity continues.

Her dirty blonde hair was carefully styled in robust curls which tumbled from her crown just brushing the straps of the sundress.

Perhaps the most perplexing part to July were the shoes. Even in heaven she’ll be tripping over those heels …

They were adorable though, a dark gunmetal gray laid with some kind of iridiscent shimmer.

Not too fancy … But greatly helped by the presence of gray bangles and meteorite necklace on her fragile extremities.

“July.” Her partner’s rough voice sent a shock up her spine. “Come on.”

“I want this.” Behind her the team of two other men sighed.

“What?” Red leaned over her shoulder. “You want what? The girl?”

“The dress …” July let her glance linger over the gentle girl. “I want the whole outfit.”

Red pinched the bridge of his nose and his grumbled. “We got what we came for, leave Jane Doe clothed.”

“Just take a picture then get on Amazon like a normal person.” August chimed in.

“He’s got a point. Boss man will want to know why we took longer than necessary and I don’t want to explain how July wanted to shop.”

With a stomp of her covered converse and a sigh July pulled out a phone. “Fine.”


Time technically ended as I was typing “linger over” but I wasn’t done yet so I broke my own rule. 

Chase Them Away

It’s Sunday, I’m still working out a good opening here.

Prompt – Congregate

Music – Pink Floyd – Meddle

*Started writing, forgot to start timer, delete, start timer*

Congregate

Congregation.

I don’t go to church.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise.

When I was 15 my parents moved from a city area to a much more rural area.

I went from a performing arts high school to an agricultural one

I didn’t even know that was a thing …

One day I was on the bus

I took my headphones out at the request of a boy who was wearing a fish hook on his hat and had a clump of dip in his lip

I can’t remember what he asked but the subject turned to religion

To which I responded “I don’t know, I’m not Christian, I don’t go to church.”

At the time, if I had to put a name to some idea of religious practices, then I’d say I was Pagan.

Poor guy was floored.

“I thought you were a good Christian girl!”

I congregate in a different way.

I go to concerts.

One time I went because I thought maybe the music would be loud enough to drown the bullshit in my head.

Now I can’t always understand what you’re saying in normal settings and I go to shows to drown myself under the sound.

Let it wash over me and take away all the self hate that can settle in my mind.

This morning I woke up and something just hit me, straight to my core.

I found myself thinking in terms of self hate, “pathetic piece of …”

I push those things away and congregate in big, or sometimes not big, raucous, sometimes not raucous, groups

To let loud melodies chase them away.


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