There was a couple that occupied the two seater cornered of the train. The girl wore white Jordan sneakers while her counterpart wore black socks and open-toe adidas slippers – the footwear of champions. They laughed and smiled, holding hands and interlocking fingers. The girl slung her legs over the boy’s knees. They hugged and cuddled all the while laughing and exchanging looks of longing. The man that stood next to them tried to choke back laughter as he listened in on their conversation. They kissed, nuzzled, caressed fingers, kissed again, and again and when the girl yawned, the boy placed his hand to her mouth. They sat in their own universe as the train jerked back and forth. And when it was their stop, they kissed, held hands and walked out the train doors together.
There was an elderly white woman with a few slight grey whiskers on her chin and a sweet demeanor. She gathered her things to one side to make room on her seat in the moderately crammed car. She looked up and spoke, at first her words incoherent. When I finally removed my headphones, she said “I feel like I’m in Kindergarden, these seats are so low!” She laughed, the signs of age apparent on her teeth. A bushel of thinning white hair sat atop her head and a set of large clear framed glasses rested on her nose. From the style, it appeared that the 1980’s retro look was what she preferred in eye wear. She may have been a teacher, her bags filled with books and paper.
I had visions of a girl
dancing in the moonlight, on the orange-kissed earth.
Feathers at her feet, glitter in the air,
the scent of ripened raspberries combing her hair with
bits of leaves tangled in her mane.
Who was she? Continue reading
pon·tif·i·cate (pn-tf-kt, -kt)
This poem is a response to a piece I read called “Thought from a Spotfilled Mind.” My poem doesn’t do the original justice, but enjoy anyway.
I was thinking of you today.
I know, it such a ‘girl thing’ to say, but it’s true.
To be honest I was thinking about you looking at me that way you do…all filled with your silently manly love.
I was thinking of you looking at me.
It’s pretty damn often that I do this.
I was thinking of a way to possibly keep you in that glance for forever and a lifetime. I love that look on your face.
I want you to remain in that space.
I’d have it no other way. I want you to stay. I want you to want me to stay.
I want to lay with you, play with you. I want you to suggest sex at the most inappropriate time just to make me agitated. I want you to roll your eyes and look away when I talk about gaining weight (that I probably didn’t gain in the first place). I want you to walk past me in your football tee during the season and ignore me during the game. Then when it’s over tell me you love me just the same. I want to lay in bed and push my booty up against you. Then I want to feel your morning wood on my ass and pretend to be disgusted. “You guys can’t ever get enough?!” I’d say. Then you’d reply “Don’t blame me, we’re just made that way.” I want to watch you while you sleep. I want to wrap my arms around you while I’m asleep. I want to cry on your chest on days I can’t take anything anymore. Then hog the covers on days you get me really sore. And on days you’re sick, listen to how loud you snore. My poor baby. I want you to comfort me. I want you to come for me. I want to watch you scratch your chest when you wake up. I want to hear you yawn when you’re ready to sleep. I want to burp like a guy and see your look of pride. I want to ask a question that’ll make you run and hide. I want to laugh with you. Even when the jokes aren’t that funny. I want to catch you looking at some kind of porn. Then hide the fact that I’m secretly turned on.I want to get mad at you when you look at another girl and put your arm around me to assure me I’m the only one. I want to yell at you when you don’t wash your dishes. I want to hold your hand when I shop for pads. I want to occasionally hint you that someday you’ll be a great dad. I want you to rub my stomach when I have cramps. I want you to get turned on watching me lick stamps. I want to collapse on top of you after great sex. I want to have sex when you get mad at me so you’ll forget. I want to get mad at you when I think you forgot a special day. Then I want to blush when you send me flowers for no reason. I want you to slap my ass when you pass me by in the kitchen. I want you to rub my exposed legs when we’re eating out with friends. I want to see you throw your hands up in the air when you know you’re losing the fight. I want to see you at night. Every night. For the rest of our lives. I want to watch you drive around in circles when you won’t admit you need directions. And then see the look of joy on your face when we get to our destination. I want to order beers for you. I want to say prayers for you. I want to keep you safe. I want you see you rush in the morning when you’re late. I want to smile for you. I want to smile because of you. I want to get in lingerie for you. I want to end my day with you. I want to mate with you. Create with you. Have babies for you and raise those babies with you. I want to look at your face, amazed at the miracle I couldn’t have done without you. I want to sing for you. Put a ring on you. I want to be everything for you. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your lover. I wan to be so good to you, you forget your mother. I want to be with you. In you. I want to be so wrapped up in love with you that you see me when you look at the letters on a page. I want you to close your eyes and see my face. I want to go there baby with you. I want you to be here with me too. Lord there’s so much more I can say, but I was thinking about this when I thought of you today…
In high school, I had the HUGEST crush on Orlando Bloom and had high hopes of someday meeting him, granted I never had money to follow him around, or knew of any ways to get myself near him or around him. I wrote him a letter to his fan club once, but never sent it in because I knew that it wasn’t going to HIM directly, but to the person who was in charge of his fan club and they would probably send me back some photo of him with a stamped signature to appease me. That wouldn’t be enough. So, I wrote this story for my personal pleasure.
“The Elf and His Princess”
A Mock Interview of a Fictitious Relationship between Alj Augustine and Orlando Bloom for a the fake OPAL magazine.
In the “Lord of the Rings” movie trilogy, the young Legolas Greenleaf was unable to succumb to the power of the “one ring,” but no one would suspect that actor Orlando Bloom would fall so gracefully for one lovely lady. At one time, a young 25-year-old Bloom was the lord of every female’s heart but now a still beautiful, a 34-year-old Bloom is now only romancing one woman in his life. Sitting down in the couple at his four-bedroom Los Angeles beachside home wearing a white wife beater and blue jeans, Bloom stretches an arm behind him, motioning for the lady in question – Alj Augustine – to come sit next to him as the interview begins.
“Don’t make God mad, or he’ll squeeze it and make rain.”
“And everyone we ever once knew” I told her.
“And someday sweet baby sister, it will be me and you.”
Before my eyes can catch a glimmer of sleep, I think of you.
A manifested destiny in which we meet and you become my
personal exhibition – my visual stimulation, my heart’s liberation.
As I drift off into a daze, I think of the early morning haze
surrounding us, my eyes fixed upon your soft lips.
I watch you, in my sleep, as you sleep, the air breathing
life into the body that has awaken my spirit.
With my eyes closed I imagine your shut eyes, waiting for them
to open, like a Christmas gift – a present of glittering constellations
wrapped in the iris behind gleaming lashes.
You are my treat. My midnight snack when I do not eat.
When I fall into heavy sleep, I dream of how you fall in love with me-
we meet and you let me think I seduce you. We tumble through
the sheets where love is made fresh like the bread we break the next day.
I listen to you sing as I fall asleep -yes, in my dreams- as your voice
is my opus symphony. Chopin’s Nocture is nothing to your lullaby
and my eyes grow heavy as your lips hold me with your harmonies.
You strum your guitar and I feel the chords through the sinews of my
body, with every note plucked, I am moved and I can’t believe that I am with you.
And after I fall asleep in my dreams, you wrap your arms around me,
I can feel your warmth and in reality I instinctively clutch my pillow tight.
I can get lost in my dreams with visions of you sleeping with me at night.
And as day begins to break, I am saddened that our night has to come to an end,
my manifested destiny with you will have to wait until it is night again.
hands touch opaque glass.
unable to see through,
unable to see you,
see beyond into the future’s view.
missing your touch as the
rush of steam hits my face
and water trickles down
above and past my eyes.
blinded by the opaque glass
I stand behind.
Hello Darling Followers,
This update comes from a rather not so happy and doleful place. I’ll get straight to the point:
I haven’t added anything new to what should’ve been the novel I “completed in a summer.” It seems that while I may have the entire plot mapped out to perfection, the words just aren’t coming to me. And though I hate to make excuses, I find that nothing is moving forward because I really don’t have much time to breath, with everything else sucking up all my energy. I know, I know – “if you want something bad enough, you’ll make time for it,” but this everything around me is just like a sinkhole of concentration. I intended on selling some of my hobby pieces this summer and that is constantly being pushed further and further into the future as new circumstances are constantly arising and because of this, the writing aspect of my life which I want to become vastly devoted to is taking a dive because of it. *sigh* I could stay up late and write until the crack of dawn, but I get so bogged down mentally, that nothing happens.
I was supposed to go to a place not too far away for a day of relaxation and pure typing, but that didn’t happen. If I have my way, I’ll go soon…if…
I spoke with a friend the other day who told me that I should release some of my work, over a course of time, bit by bit to gain an audience and feedback and while I’ve started that with this post, I haven’t got much of a response which obviously has left a bad taste in my mouth. Is writing really for me?
Anyhow, I will try to continue on…and I’ll be doing so with a bit of “Erotic Fan-Fiction” but not on novels or T.V. shows or anything like that. Nope, just on men. Men, will be the source of this fiction- famous men…or at least men I find incredulously handsome and would love to get my hands on but know (in the front of my mind) that I never will. I got the idea from Tina (of Bob’s Burgers) cause she does the same…but with her friends…and zombies.
I’ve always wanted to do it, but thought that in a world with so much social media and googling and shiz, people would think that it was a real story but, now I don’t really care. I’ve been dreaming of these guys too frequently to not indulge in a little fantasy and well…get some writing done.
The first of these Fan-Fiction pieces will be called “The Elf & His Princess,” a mock interview piece that I wrote in high school about me and Orlando Bloom (when he was hot off the LOTR circuit). It’s long…and it’s out there, but it was based on like a four-part dream I had for several weeks so…yeah.