Saturday, June 19, 2010

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

Thursday, June 10, 2010

The King is Dead


Did you see him fall? I just heard this hush go over the crowd, this sigh. Like the whole world was a dream and we're just waking up.

When he fell, when our hero fell, we had to grow up. All of us.

We couldn't depend on him to inspire. We had to find the reasons on our own. We had to make our own religion.

photo: crystal chess set, beneath glass table - taken w/ iPhone 3GS and Hipstamatic app

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Hell is a Hospital


I decided to call Hell. They picked up on the first ring, "How'd you get this number?"
"Let me speak to the Devil."
"There's no one here by that name." Click. They hung up the phone.
Ring.
"You again? How did you get this number?"
"Let me speak to the Devil"
"Look soul, there is no Devil, only Hell and the souls who choose to come here."
"Why would anyone choose to go to Hell?"

"Hell is a hospital. Where souls admit to themselves they've lost their way. Here tiny flames burn doubt and religion til there's nothing left but pure spirit. Then they go home."
"Where's home?"
Click.

photo: pay phone in subway - taken with iPhone 3GS & Hipstamatic app

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Agnostics



Everybody was looking up, when I got outside. A UFO crashing into the sun. No, more like an eclipse being caused by the craft. It was several city blocks wide, shiny and had apparatus hanging underneath.

As the vehicle covered Sol, our hearts faultered. All this time, we considered ourselves powerful, even superior. Well, this round disk just burst our bubble.

Slowly it moved, until we could'nt see our original god. We became agnostics; for what do you call a power greater than your Truth? Slowly it moves from theology to velocity, the ship sped off to some unknown star.

We breathe again. There were hundreds of us on the street that afternoon. All bonded; a family of strangers with a story no one would believe. The saucer was gone, but we could never go home again.

photo: curved awning of building facing street light - taken with iPhone 3GS & Hipstamatic app

Thursday, May 20, 2010

The Tower


My Love. I know she's up there. Stranded in a midnight of concrete and steel.

My Scars. My Scars tell the story. Those archers, the knights without end, they all have wounded me. Liberating pieces of my flesh. Pigeons gather, eat the crumbs of my broken body.

Her smile. In the struggle, her smile was lost to me; only hate and revenge for comfort. They are my soul mates. When I finally free her from this mountain, will I be the man she once knew? How could I? When all that made me beautiful has beaten into swords.

photo: info column on underground subway platform - taken w/ iPhone 3GS & Hipstamatic app