Ridiculous Revelations

Rice pudding bowl

Rice pudding to read relatives’ fortunes in (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The only revelations I ever receive are

Of how to:

Read relatives’ fortunes in rice pudding

Or

How rats rotate in zero gravity.

With the risk of being ridiculed,

I admit that I only

Feel

That I have a role in this world

When I’m running.

Which I realize is ridiculous.

I’m not like Richard the third

Who ripped his way through all his rivals and even

Relished

The road to the throne.

Not that I’m ravenous to rupture any organs, but

I need a goal to relinquish this thirst.

I cannot rest

Until I have some sort of quest

Or rebellion

To relieve my shattered nerves and

Convince me

That my ramblings on this earth is

Or at least will be

In some way

Worthwhile.

Remembrance

English: A simple wind chime

Wind Chime (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I remember the smell of smoke that clung to my grandfather and the sound of his breathing. It sounded like he was trying to pull a hurricane through the eye of a needle. He had a missing finger on his right hand.

 

I remember the spring when I stepped into a bucket of orange paint and left small orange footprints all the way from the front yard to our flat on the second floor and found my big brother. I was crying, but he just laughed at me.

 

I remember the boiling water from the holes on Iceland and how I shied away from all holes in the ground afterwards.

 

And I remember the wind chime on the terrace outside the room where my mother stared into space for hours after my father left for China and I never saw him again, and how the wind chime never seemed to sound as musical as they do in films or are described in books.

 

I remember straying into a dream where I was little red riding hood, and the wolf told me that he was the one who ate my grandfather’s finger.

 

I remember a smell of lavender in a meadow somewhere on the north island of New Zealand, but my brother says I’ve never been there.

30 Under the Rain

Under the Rain

Usually, they hide under the rain.

Sometimes they hide behind it,

But mostly they hide under it.

On each and every drop, you can find them clinging to the liquid.

Of course you would need a microscope to actually see them.

And when the rain drops splash onto a person,

A dog or bird won’t do, just like bird lice can’t live off humans,

They jump off and bite into the skin with their small shark-like teeth

And they bury right into the flesh,

And they stay there until their host loses a tooth

(Or until the host dies whichever happens first)

And they wait until the host puts it under his or her pillow.

They have to be able to smell the tooth, you see,

Because then they know it’s time,

And they dig their way all the way out of their host again

And then all those from the same host eat the tooth

They share, you see, as everyone should,

And they poop out something which condenses

And then solidifies

And when it’s done, it looks very much like a small coin.

Then they grow wings,

Because the tooth gave them the energy to grow wings, you see?

No, it wouldn’t work for you.

And then they fly up into the clouds where all the adults live,

And then they can have babies too,

And the babies cling to the rain drops on their way down.

Use of the Word: Lost

A bird welcomes the morning outside my window, my eyes are still closed and you are afraid that you might have “lost” my love.

Lost?

Lost, as in you hid it under the bed, but then forgot where you put it?

Lost, as in threw out some old stuff and forgot that my love was in between the crumpled paper somewhere?

Lost, as in you lent it to an old friend and you forgot to get it back before she moved far away and you lost contact with her?

Lost, as in you kept it in your pocket, but one day all your trousers were in the washing except this one really old pair with lots of holes in them, and you put my love in the pocket of those, but there was a hole in the pocket, and my love fell out on some pavement as you went from the doctor’s to the grocery store, and you went back and looked for it, but it was nowhere to be found, and you think someone might have picked it up and taken it home with them?

In any case, you are being silly.

If I know anything for a fact, it is that one cannot lose something which one has never had.

Bananas

I don’t like bananas.

Sometimes I think, I might even hate them.

The sound of their skin being peeled back makes my skin crawl. And the feel of their surface and the look of them, so yellow and then brown if they lie for a while.

Some say yellow is a happy colour, but to me it means falseness. And sickness.

And brown is rot.

Rot just shouldn’t exist.

Like tooth decay.

Is there anything more gross than yellow and brown teeth.

Yellow and brown are the worst colours I know.

Perhaps because they remind me of bananas.

And bananas remind me of penises.

I hate penises. I definitely HATE penises.

I’m not sure why, but the look, the feel, the everything, I just hate it.

Sometimes I have nightmares of men with banana penises.

If the sun was blue and penises and bananas were gone from the world, it would be a happier one.

Someone once made me put one in my mouth, and even though I closed my eyes, it was unbearable, I just couldn’t stand the thought of it. So I spit it out immediately and threw the rest of it in the trash. I’ll never even try eating a banana again.

I’m sure now; I do HATE bananas.

I don’t even know why I hate penises so much.

Perhaps because they remind me of bananas.

Please Don’t Go

Please don’t go.

I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,

But please just wait a bit longer,

Then I can be with you, I promise.

 

Please don’t go.

I didn’t mean to stand you up,

I just got the dates mixed up.

Please can we try again?

I’ll be there next time, I promise.

 

Please don’t go.

No one else can give me what you have,

And I really need it,

So please don’t go.

Please, just wait till I can get down the stairs.

Please don’t go,

UPS-man.

O, The Intermissionness!

Due to little time this morning, and very loud music from my neighbour now, there will be a short intermission from the story (please don’t get angry).

Hopefully, I will complete part ten tomorrow, otherwise it will be published Wednesday.

For now, please enjoy these small intermission type texts.

 

Red and Stars and Sky

Sky at dusk,

Light disappearing from the world.

Something sweet has just left me.

I am not sure what.

But it lingers on my tongue.

And reminds me of dates.

 

Floating

Floating.

Weightless.

Hair spreading out.

Like lazy snakes circling her head.

She is looking at me with grey eyes.

Should I take her with me?

Is that what she wants?

I take her hand.

She does not resist.

I pull her with me to the bottom.

 

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 404 other followers

%d bloggers like this: