Merry Christmas (ii)
It’s been a long time coming!
A once-in-a-year event nearing
I’ve been getting ready for yuletide
Taking every circumstance in great stride
It’s about me making plans for the following year
Working hard so that New Year’s Resolution won’t be at the rear
I have to live with the moment as I press on
Positioning me in the light of thorough reflection is the impression
It’s about savoring the festive period
Caring about my neighbors is the watch word
I have to celebrate with people en masse
To wish them a fruitful Merry Christmas!
Living in dreams
The dead do not die
When you expect them to. They live on,
Ghosts trapped
In the minds of those, who loved them, feared them.
The living don’t live
When you expect them to. They exist
In the trudge of reality,
Living in their dreams.
Dying in their lives.
Ghosts live in the dreams of others
Family friends and lovers.
And the living live in their own dreams
With lovers friends and family,
With strangers exotic places a hopeful future,
With the past of their mundane world.
The dead don't die,
The living don't live
Because of dreams.
Unusual places I have been
Each with their own moment
salted into the web of my memory
A tenuous painted contrail
A trail traveled many places
The smell of a place evoking
It is the one stool ramen stall
next to a small westernized Chinese hotel In Wuhan
It is fool's gold sparkling on a dreary day
in the cold rocky shallows of Donner Lake in California
It is the dry smell of a late summer day
at the hot train station in Havre Montana
Each a unique serendipitous memory, each a thread
One of many woven
to be clutched in the hands of Lachesis
Measured and imbued by a fate
An unintended interesting life.
Moon Meets the Sun
I remember when I first saw you, your shining face smiling at me from afar
Said the moon.
You are so bright, so golden and sweet
I can almost taste your laughter
how it fills the holes of my heart with joy
Said the moon.
I know I hide in the shadows
I am shyer, only showing my face once in a while
but when I look at you, I light up
You make the darkness go away
as you smile
and fill the space around me with warmth
Turning my world
into the perfect place
Said the moon.
Crab Nebula
a tenuous spoon bent into black
whirlpool joy at a trillion volts
orange whispers out
just touching the void
thankful for unencumbered elements
what's it like to spin thirty times a second?
do you get dizzy?
what would Lao Tzu have to say about you?
rings form, concentric
trying to hide the numbing density
you've thought about slowing down
taking a look around the neighborhood
but that's best left to the wear and tear guys
or the wishes of the slide rule
you lost some of your shine over the last
millennium
but heat and beat
they're all yours
acorn sermon
live with the acorn sermon
that sits for a long time in the stubble fields
that seems boring
until it razors home
greet the duck as a distinguished guest
quacking tales from hither and yon
he knows both North and South
and his wife can tell East and West
words dangle on cool air come fall
they sprinkle the ground
racing again in spring
then everybody talks summer
and sun waits for blossoms to sweeten the life
history of my body
Right index finger: Carbon created in a supernova in the Sculptor
Supercluster 8 billion years ago, travelled to Earth via
Sculptor Void
Left knee: bone atoms from a Blue Giant in Leo Supercluster 6.8 billion years ago
White blood cells: material from Fornax cluster, type 1a nova over 5.5 billion years previous
Hair: spun from a molecular cloud in the Andromeda galaxy, carried to Earth via a comet 3.7 billion years ago
Eye: a rain of organic material from the small Magellanic cloud, 4.5 billion years travel time
All other parts from unidentified parts of the Universe. Estimated travel time: 5-10 billion years
Aldo Leopold
at a pure stone table
I write in a way cognizant of bumps, ridges and purple flowers
Coolness in the wind seeks out its own kind of day dream
the peculiar symphony of trees holds a memory of seed, the last rainfall and buttercup sky
curved pathways lead who knows where?
Overhead a small plane plies cloud, but the labyrinth branches ground eyes and birds soar sound.
Mary E. Croy lives in Madison, Wisconsin where she works as an administrative assistant. She spent nine years teaching English Language Learners in Ha Noi, Viet Nam. During her free time, Mary likes reading poetry and hanging out with her cats, Buster and Gabby. Her work has appeared in Better than Starbucks, Woven Tale Press, and Valley Voices, among others.
RUN-ON SENTENCE
And my Eternity
Allowed the Time
my Heart
Stands Fallen
to the next
moment
where I Am Now
And looking at what I thought
WAS Me felt GOOD
Knowing
WAS I BORN HUMAN
or the Path Beneath me
Grows these Legs to
Walk
Where I AM
turns to wind &
Dust to
Swirl in the shape
of a Heart
where flowers
CAN GROW
AS I AM Always
Kissed Knowing
Kissed As if again &
Again
where lips find
OUR Smell
And I am Reminded
I AM Human.
by John Edward Culp
Friday morning
December 9, 2022
La La Land
Light or dark?
There would be chaos constricted into a tiny bubble
of all my thoughts, all my fears
hopes,
dreams,
life,
love,
death;
entrapped. Into one entity.
Initially, I didn’t know what I would be without my body.
My love, my light, myself.
Am I my own self
my own love,
my own light?
Do I face my subconscious self-sabotage for what appears to be my own form of “self-preservation?”
Or am I just floating away from others
so I don’t find myself in the dark.
When I strip down my skin, manipulate my muscles, obliterate my organs, and break my bones into stardust;
what is left?
Light
or
dark?
two weeks before christmas
endless haze
a chance of a
tornado two weeks
before christmas
tell me again how
climate change
is a hoax
we all know why
the rich are going
to space
they have just about
run out of places to
fuck up here
-----------------------------------------------------
drift to the beyond
i am pretty
much a quiet
and reserved
kind of guy
put a little
alcohol in
me and i
loosen up
a bit
add some
drugs and
i have been
known to
entertain
with a story
from the
void
mix them
all together
and hopefully
i will drift to
the beyond
what
a beautiful
thought that
would be
---------------------------------------------------------
thursday
it's
a
tight skirt
and a dirty
imagination
my afternoon
just got
interesting
---------------------------------------------------------
the kiss of the most exotic woman
the anticipation hits
your tongue like the
kiss of the most exotic
woman walking the
earth
give in
say yes
let go
walk on water
rejoice that life
is still an option
let all the thoughts
drain from whatever
brain you are using
pressure is whatever
you allow to be placed
on you
enjoy the control
embrace the darkness
-------------------------------------------------------
a quiet christmas
mom's out of
the hospital
covid nearly
killed us both
it is going to
be a quiet
christmas
this year
not sure which
spirit is going
to bother to
show up
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know where the bodies are buried. He’s been widely published over the last quarter-century, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, Cajun Mutt Press, Terror House Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy and Jellyfish Whispers. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
