Lion's Den

Sometimes I see more clearly in the shadows. Not because of any special ability, but because human nature is nocturnal.

I work and live amongst beasts who hunt their own because they think it's a famine. Fang play, smart remarks and digs made within ear-shot of bosses. Words that wound, warning newbies to shun alliances with this one or that one. If you have some talent, they want you in their Pride.

There's an abandoned temple just outside the city. It's long been taken over by lions. I go there but don't stay long. I'm not exactly a member of a pack.

We hunt together, that's it.. and only antelopes. When they start in on the weak, infirm cats, I fade to the savanna. Tree shade is my heaven. Work is my only hell, but it's not like it lasts forever. No hell does.

Alpha males and females are strange characters. You need my vote to stay at the head of the alphabet. I defer, I don't endorse. Because I don't need you like that; just want to learn from you.

In this shadowy place, I see the piss-lines drawn, lionesses hunting together, lions lounging talking shit and me, a lion with no pride.

I've been here 10 years, but still feel like a visitor. Strange as it seems, that's my most comfortable space. A Bill Bigsy outro, five days a week.

Rrrrr.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Alfred Infrared)

Tunnel Vision

Had this vision of the future. It was filled with a communities of people who spoke in twitterese. They viewed their blogs, open mics and photography as their life's work and their 9 to 5 as a necessary evil. Success is getting off the plantation. Everybody was counting down.

There was a these souls walking under a beautiful black sun, eyes a flame. Sharing tales of their escape and messages from the North star.

We huddle around the water cooler, warming our hands with stories of publishers returning calls and concert dates. Dreams are fire.

When one left the plantation. It was like we were all half way there. It made the electronic cotton lighter, backs ached less, vision got clearer.

I see the route for my escape. It's a five year plan, but should keep me and my family out of servitude for generations.

When I close my eyes, I see stars I need to follow out of here. There's joy in this journey and thorn scarred fingers make great fairytales.

photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Pistil)

Seeya Bitches

Fear is the last companion you have when you leave Gotham. You've always seen her around, but the timing wasn't right.

House sold, bags packed, in a hotel with nothing in your name but a car and a celly. All your friends in this 'burg were situational, so when they heard you were leaving, pretense faded. Your ego was disappointed, but the essential-self never looked back, like "Seeya Bitches and God bless!"

In a bar and later at a theater, I saw her; it was electric eye contact. Seemed like fate so the small talk was bold. We ended up in my hotel room using each other as a divine distraction.

She left her number on the dresser. I woke to the knocking of the cleaning lady - alone. Any dreams I had for myself in this town were left in a condom and flushed.

Driving with the visor down, I live on the horizon... And I left that number on the dresser.

photo: taken w/ iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (Salvador 84, DreamCanvas)

Chitterling Reefs

This ark I was building for my ambition and to save my family was threatened by this hog. She kept kicking up mud and making my work place disorderly. I decided to kill the pig.

One problem, my co-workers fancied her and would have no parts of it. The pig would slip through my hands, idle were they, offering no assistance. They would even condemn my actions as rash and insensitive.

More mud on my shoes. The pig is dancing and my team looks the other way. PETA members all. I guess one pig doesn't stop a ship from sailing.

One day, I got some mud in my mouth. My frustration with pork and my team set my mind on fire. My attempt at ending the pigs life starts to alienate not only my team, but the crew as well. I feel like the pig.

One morning, in the mirror, I saw an Engineer who spent his time chasing livestock instead of building ships. I knew then I had lost my direction and was crashing on chitterling reefs. Picking up my tools, I began to work on the ship.

One afternoon, while resting in the boiler room, my lunch fell from my lap to the floor. I woke up to find a trail of crumbs where a hoagie been. I took out a piece of cake and felt the heavy eyelids again, a cold furnace got the cake and the crumbs I gathered from the floor. Thoughts of a clean ship comforted my sleepy mind.

A wonderful smell of protein woke me. I went to the ships kitchen to compliment the chief, but no one was there. I asked my colleagues who had ordered food. "None" they said. Curious, I asked how was the furnace working? They told me, they quietly turned it on an hour ago, tipping over my sleeping body. Maybe the smell came from there.

We all ran down below. Through the door we could see my foil wrapped lunch in a charred hog's mouth. She must have snuck in there after my food while I slept. I didn't feel bad since my colleague started the fire.

Alls well that ends well.

Photo taken with iPhone 3GS, edited in PS Mobile