Don't think the shadow is empty,
or that it's just a shell.
It is a clever decoy,
Luring us to hell.
Welcome to the new land,
A place to make your stand,
Lost along the way,
The pathway home.
No-one will follow here,
This is a new breed of fear,
Unfamiliar screams,
We hear them come.
Stand up straight and stand up tall,
Face your last chance to fall,
Sometime soon,
Before the dawn of something new.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Hungry Smiling Fish
Barracuda, you have sharp, sharp teeth,
Lurk in murky waters just slightly underneath,
Unsuspecting swimmers' toes,
As you purposely prepare for a phalangee feast.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Sunday Morning (A Waffle Recipe)
2 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup water
1 cup milk
2 eggs
2 tablespoons apple sauce
1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
Using a large spoon mix the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Add the milk and water. Stir until the mixture has a creamy consistency. Separate the egg whites. Add the yolks and the apple sauce to the mixture. Mix well. Whisk the egg yolks until they are stiff. Fold them into the rest of the mixture.
Heat the waffle iron until it sizzles as you coat it with a small amount of butter. This will prevent the waffle from sticking. Pour the waffle mix into the waffle iron until it is about 3/4 full. Cook until golden brown. This mix should produce 4-5 waffles 8" in diameter.
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup water
1 cup milk
2 eggs
2 tablespoons apple sauce
1 teaspoon vanilla extract.
Using a large spoon mix the dry ingredients in a large bowl. Add the milk and water. Stir until the mixture has a creamy consistency. Separate the egg whites. Add the yolks and the apple sauce to the mixture. Mix well. Whisk the egg yolks until they are stiff. Fold them into the rest of the mixture.
Heat the waffle iron until it sizzles as you coat it with a small amount of butter. This will prevent the waffle from sticking. Pour the waffle mix into the waffle iron until it is about 3/4 full. Cook until golden brown. This mix should produce 4-5 waffles 8" in diameter.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Fortune Hunter
Hey where's my million dollars?
Why won't my fortune ever be found?
I've looked up high and low,
I've looked around and round.
So where's my million dollars?
Why can't it ever be found?
It's not on top of mountains,
or deep beneath the ground.
Don't think the shadow's empty,
that it's just an empty shell.
It is a clever decoy,
To pull us into hell.
Hey where's my million dollars?
I've looked for years and years.
I've sacrificed and given,
up all that I hold dear.
I want my million dollars.
I want my fortune to be found.
To prove my faith's not empty,
As empty as my fears.
Don't think the shadow's empty,
or that it's just a shell.
It is a lovely decoy,
luring us beautifully to hell.
Why won't my fortune ever be found?
I've looked up high and low,
I've looked around and round.
So where's my million dollars?
Why can't it ever be found?
It's not on top of mountains,
or deep beneath the ground.
Don't think the shadow's empty,
that it's just an empty shell.
It is a clever decoy,
To pull us into hell.
Hey where's my million dollars?
I've looked for years and years.
I've sacrificed and given,
up all that I hold dear.
I want my million dollars.
I want my fortune to be found.
To prove my faith's not empty,
As empty as my fears.
Don't think the shadow's empty,
or that it's just a shell.
It is a lovely decoy,
luring us beautifully to hell.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
A Trick of the Light
Melvin came to himself fully dressed in a brown snowsuit and knee deep in pristine snow in the empty lot beside the family house-trailer. He stared placidly at the rectangular home. White and green metal siding peeked out above eight foot banks ambitiously piled as insulation against the season. Although the late morning was overcast and gloomy the glorious snow sparkled and dazzled Melvin's eyes. If he were not so stunned by the sudden appearance of his conscious self the boy would have been startled to discover there were no footprints in the snow leading from the trailer to his position thirty feet away. He only concluded the trailer was his home because he was looking at it when he opened his eyes. This event made for only his second memory so far that day. The first was of a glowing ball of light.
He chewed the frost as it formed in his itchy hand-knit wool scarf then blew long puffs of steaming breath into the winter and pretended to be a dragon in a red pom-pom toque. Eventually, inevitably the relentless cold insinuated itself into his thick and clumsy mitts and boots. One inch of space age foam and rubberized plastic could never stop the primitive elements. Melvin couldn't tell if the tingling he felt was frostbite or the feeling he always got from being perfectly alone in the winter stillness. When finger and toe wiggling no longer held back the creeping chill he scooped a handful of clean snow into his mouth and charged like an awkwardly armored knight for the trailer's warmly lit windows. By the time he reached the door he'd put the entire incident out of his mind.
He remembered five years later, sitting on the edge of his bed in the midnight depths of winter. The furnace, an old fuel-oil burning model, chuffed and roared in the hallway breathing comfort and warmth into the small home. Despite familiar sounds and surroundings Melvin could not help but feel confused and more than a little concerned. The orange light had returned.
He chewed the frost as it formed in his itchy hand-knit wool scarf then blew long puffs of steaming breath into the winter and pretended to be a dragon in a red pom-pom toque. Eventually, inevitably the relentless cold insinuated itself into his thick and clumsy mitts and boots. One inch of space age foam and rubberized plastic could never stop the primitive elements. Melvin couldn't tell if the tingling he felt was frostbite or the feeling he always got from being perfectly alone in the winter stillness. When finger and toe wiggling no longer held back the creeping chill he scooped a handful of clean snow into his mouth and charged like an awkwardly armored knight for the trailer's warmly lit windows. By the time he reached the door he'd put the entire incident out of his mind.
He remembered five years later, sitting on the edge of his bed in the midnight depths of winter. The furnace, an old fuel-oil burning model, chuffed and roared in the hallway breathing comfort and warmth into the small home. Despite familiar sounds and surroundings Melvin could not help but feel confused and more than a little concerned. The orange light had returned.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Lyndsay Markham
Lyndsay Markham found himself longing for familiar-looking people doing familiar-looking things, so he could despise them. All this perpetual newness was unsettlingly pleasant. He passed a garish gilded mirror in the quaint colonial hotel lobby and was horrified to discover a sunny smile had displaced his well-practiced sneer of perpetual disdain. That settled the issue. It was time to end his vacation or forgo an entire lifetime of rehearsed, aloof, unlikableness. Thinking of the effort invested in forming such a disagreeable personality and the open-ended return trip plane ticket his co-workers and mother had chipped in for him on his birthday he couldn't quite shake the feeling he was missing something.
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