Dickens Again
Surely there are more momentous things to worry about.
Autism. Attention Deficit Disorder. Tuberculosis. Gayness?
They crept in closer, concerned. Worried. Surf pounding.
All this ocean, what is our son up to. Chronic masturbation?
An opening in the tent revealed him -- in all his fullness.
They had seen that same devilish grin before, in the library.
Immersed in the page at hand, thumb ready to flip to the next
he turned, saying to them, Do you have nothing better to do?
They didn't. It's Dickens again, Dad said, sighing in the wind.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
Friday, September 30, 2016
Sunday, September 25, 2016
Monkey Bars
Monkey Bars
Who am I, really?
I walked through a park tonight, shadows long before me.
Twice my height, thanks to a lamp-light behind.
In the same exponentiation, oh the tricks my mind played.
For there I was, climbing and tumbling -- as ever I was.
But in my current state of being, I could never achieve this.
I even heard the sounds, those of my childhood.
A different playground -- and that is when I stopped moving.
Swinging like a chimpanzee, with as many cares for tomorrow.
How is it that I can see it -- what database stores such a thing?
I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it.
But I could never do it. I could never do it. I could never do it.
Now.
Who am I, really? An amalgam of memories of who I was?
If so, I could jump up there, and make a circuit of these bars.
But I cannot do so. If time is relative to distance, how can this
apparatus be so near to me and the experience so far off?
So impossible. So improbable. So impossible. So distant.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
Who am I, really?
I walked through a park tonight, shadows long before me.
Twice my height, thanks to a lamp-light behind.
In the same exponentiation, oh the tricks my mind played.
For there I was, climbing and tumbling -- as ever I was.
But in my current state of being, I could never achieve this.
I even heard the sounds, those of my childhood.
A different playground -- and that is when I stopped moving.
Swinging like a chimpanzee, with as many cares for tomorrow.
How is it that I can see it -- what database stores such a thing?
I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it.
But I could never do it. I could never do it. I could never do it.
Now.
Who am I, really? An amalgam of memories of who I was?
If so, I could jump up there, and make a circuit of these bars.
But I cannot do so. If time is relative to distance, how can this
apparatus be so near to me and the experience so far off?
So impossible. So improbable. So impossible. So distant.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
The Stars Help To Express It
Holding hands on the balcony, he looked up at the night sky.
Then, her face.
You know, have you ever considered the fact the the universe is expanding? I mean, the constellations we have observed and named -- the whole thing itself is so… provincial.
In a million or so years from now, those formations will have shifted -- we observe them from an extremely limited vantage point, that is itself shifting.
[Inspired now, he kicked off his sandals, the lotus position, and touched her face…]
-- Andromeda, Aquarius, Cygnus -- all of these will not at all look as they do today darling, were you and I to be sitting here a million years from now. Not to mention that our own Earth will most likely not be around to observe any of these from, nor our Sun still shining, having collapsed in upon itself and…
Noticing her glass empty, he grabbed the bottle from the ice bucket --
Darling, she said, tightening her grip. Darling, he said --
[A new train of thought made its way to the last remaining synapses…]
Do you see it, though? It is the naming, the fixing, that is wrong-headed.
If you were one, one bottle of wine, you would have to be un-named. Un-dated.
No one. No sheik, no ten sultans, could afford you. And a million, a million years from now…
She was smiling. Oh, that smile.
Darling, I think it's time we went to bed.
In the tone, in the very tone that the universe would say such a thing.
I followed her. Soon to see constellations that no one, were the Earth to somehow survive its inevitable demise, see.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
Holding hands on the balcony, he looked up at the night sky.
Then, her face.
You know, have you ever considered the fact the the universe is expanding? I mean, the constellations we have observed and named -- the whole thing itself is so… provincial.
In a million or so years from now, those formations will have shifted -- we observe them from an extremely limited vantage point, that is itself shifting.
[Inspired now, he kicked off his sandals, the lotus position, and touched her face…]
-- Andromeda, Aquarius, Cygnus -- all of these will not at all look as they do today darling, were you and I to be sitting here a million years from now. Not to mention that our own Earth will most likely not be around to observe any of these from, nor our Sun still shining, having collapsed in upon itself and…
Noticing her glass empty, he grabbed the bottle from the ice bucket --
Darling, she said, tightening her grip. Darling, he said --
[A new train of thought made its way to the last remaining synapses…]
Do you see it, though? It is the naming, the fixing, that is wrong-headed.
If you were one, one bottle of wine, you would have to be un-named. Un-dated.
No one. No sheik, no ten sultans, could afford you. And a million, a million years from now…
She was smiling. Oh, that smile.
Darling, I think it's time we went to bed.
In the tone, in the very tone that the universe would say such a thing.
I followed her. Soon to see constellations that no one, were the Earth to somehow survive its inevitable demise, see.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Camels
Camels
One of those urban myths, without the urban part.
That's got to be what it is he muttered, cracked lips oozing pus.
Bending low to a dream of grass… no, it was just sand again.
Everywhere. Dunes, mirages, and every oasis a falser fantasy.
The other, hump bent sideways -- knelt for a turbaned rider.
Head turned but reply-choked by his own crushed camel-spirit.
Forced. Off they trotted on their eight scorched two-toed feet.
Hmmm… what's beyond this hill of dust? Look. Yet another one.
Which of us wanted to go anywhere near here in the first place?
[That last part was unspoken by either of them, not unthought].
Just before they reached their thrice-hyphenated destination, #1
gasped Has even one of these things ever asked if we were thirsty?
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
One of those urban myths, without the urban part.
That's got to be what it is he muttered, cracked lips oozing pus.
Bending low to a dream of grass… no, it was just sand again.
Everywhere. Dunes, mirages, and every oasis a falser fantasy.
The other, hump bent sideways -- knelt for a turbaned rider.
Head turned but reply-choked by his own crushed camel-spirit.
Forced. Off they trotted on their eight scorched two-toed feet.
Hmmm… what's beyond this hill of dust? Look. Yet another one.
Which of us wanted to go anywhere near here in the first place?
[That last part was unspoken by either of them, not unthought].
Just before they reached their thrice-hyphenated destination, #1
gasped Has even one of these things ever asked if we were thirsty?
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2016
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