Archive for the ‘Creative Writing’ Category
People Grouping
Obviously, we are all individuals, but there is no denying that people are pretty easily grouped for any number of reasons, one of which being, it’s just plain fun to do!
The other day, I decided there are three kinds of people. Those who grab a knob to open a drawer or a closet door without ever noticing the knob is spinning loose —causing it to get worse with every use, …those who try to fix loose knobs by tightening it until the threads strip —making it impossible to ever fix, …and those who are aware of the situation before they ever grab a knob —leading to handling it in such a way it doesn’t spin loose every time or causing thread damage when snugging it up when needed.
It is a known fact that there are two kinds of drivers other than ourselves: Maniacs who drive faster than us and idiots who drive slower. I’m gaining plenty of experience with driving styles during my hour-long commutes to and from work.
Seems to me there are three groups of people in the left/fast/passing lane of the expressway: Those who pick their comfortable speed and stay put, oblivious to what other cars around them are seeking to do, …those who pick a speed below what other fast lane drivers prefer, staying in the left lane no matter what, as if to spite anyone behind them who wishes to drive faster, …and those who drive in the left lane while passing slower cars, but notice immediately if someone approaches from behind at a greater speed, in which case this third group of drivers will move over at the earliest opportunity to allow the faster driver to proceed past.
It’s not rocket science, people.
For grouping people in the world, I think 3 is the ideal number. Splitting us into 2 groups is too easy. Anything more than 3 becomes an exercise in “where do you stop?” If you break it down into 4, you may as well go to 5. Oh, heck, why stop there?
See? Three is perfect.
On people’s opinions about a roll of toilet paper: Those who believe it should be mounted to roll off the top, …those who believe it should roll off the bottom, …and those who don’t give a flying eff what direction it comes from. (Okay, sometimes 4 isn’t all bad… those who say, “Toilet paper? A place to mount it? I wish!”)
Mostly, there are three kinds of people in the world.
I tend to see myself as residing somewhere in the group between the maniacs and the idiots.
Don’t we all?
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Again, Anticipate
I’m thoroughly under the weight of the oppressive symptoms of a cold, and have grabbed an old “Words on Images” for today in place of boring you with the gory details of my day in bed. Here’s to better days ahead…
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Threatening
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coyotes called last night again
whooping siren-like howls
echoes from the dark
adding excitement
to the trip down the driveway
rolling the trash
and recycling
to the shoulder of the road
with Delilah in tow
in hopes to dissuade
any roving marauders
whose curiosity might bring near
with our vision confined
to the cone of light
that juts from our foreheads
like miners in a cave
our cave with no ceiling
just dark to the stars
and fog of the evening
the ground wet but not snowy
air temp above freezing
rattling trees with no leaves
now just skeletons of their former selves
creating a haunting feeling
befitting the season
of goblins and spooks
that show up in our heads
where the most threatening reside
not possibly real
ones we make up, instead
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Hope
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six times
I reached for the solution
in that beckoning dream
sixty times
it was
of revolution extremes
without once recognizing
any hope to yet capture
a golden ring of uncertainty
sailing past all the action
cast off without doubt
simple oversight in large part
for reasons unreasonable
shed with no heart
to the wind in tall trees
where hope hopefully rides
to be found on the breeze
available to all sides
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Adrift
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it’s like a scene from a movie
happening in real time
sublimely
inside my tattered mind
and I can’t find the stairs
even though I look
there is nothing there
but a gap that exists, instead
in the space held by images
and I look away
somewhat desperate now
over a passing thought
of a memory gone
from that time and a place
disjoining my now
leaving it adrift
untethered from a reference
of familiarity
floating solely on an energy
that plays on a look
and lasts for mere seconds
an emotional burst
of unspoken words
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Relative Something 