The best thing about life, Is knowing you put it together

"They look like big strong hands... don't they?"

Water rolls down the skin like tiny beads..
Eyes close so that they might see.
Illum tangendo (touching him)
This sun is a star in someone else's sky
Illum tangendo (touching him)
This moon is making someone cry...
Illum tangendo (touching him)

Captain PirateFace say's "Ahoy!"

Captain PirateFace say's "Ahoy!"
Updated by, Captain PirateFace

This is not an Exit

Never Say Die!!!





























"the tigers have found me
and I do not care."

Charles Bukowski



there is no fear here

there is no fear here
there is a fear here

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

silence lies empty


no words.










just words.




The wronged

the status quo is on to us.

we have been figured out and soon the attack will follow.

before we suffer the indignities of our fellow human beings…

let me hold you one last time.

Looking deep into those hypnotic eyes.

and even when they start to rip us limb from limb…

I will only feel your kiss.



god for a night

As he backed up his car, he heard a high pitched scream and slammed on the breaks. His heart nearly stopped as he was almost certain it was the scream of a child… maybe his. Getting out of the car in a panic, still pinned under his rear tire, with half a crushed body was the family cat. He felt relief and agony in one mixed emotion. The cat was dead but then again he was thanking God it wasn't his little girl. Not wanting his daughter to discover the corpse of the family cat he quickly pulled the car up, grabbed a garbage bag from the garage and put the furry little body rapped neatly in his trunk. Spraying down the sidewalk to remove all trace of blood. Late for work he drove off….

That night after his daughter fell asleep, after calling for her kitty for an hour strait, he went to his car to take care of his problem. Taking the bag from the trunk he went to the back yard and began digging a hole. After an hour or so he had finished and washed up and climbed into bed. An hour later in a half sleep his little girl climbed into his bed.

“Daddy.”
“Yes sweetheart?”
“Skitch didn't come home tonight. Do you think he is ok?”
“Well sweetheart… I didn't want to tell you until morning but Skitch had to leave.”
“Why?”
“Another little girl needed him, she was a very sad little girl and didn't have a friend in the whole world. Skitch said that he needed to help her and that you would understand.”
“I guess… But I already miss him.”
“I know honey, but Skitch was needed somewhere else… but he did tell me one other thing.”
“What?”
“That since he is gone, he said that you needed to go the animal shelter and rescue a kitten, just as he went to rescue that lonely little girl.”
“He did?!?
“Yes he did, and I told him that I would take off work tomorrow and you could take a day off school so we can do just that.”
“Thank you Daddy. I wish Skitch would have said goodbye though, I really do miss him.”
“So do I sweetheart… so do I.”

He stroked her hair until she fell asleep. And once he knew she was sound asleep he walked into his bathroom and wept. And the strange thing for him was, he hadn't cried this hard since his wife had passed away. Something’s are just hard to replace I guess.




Visiting the dead while the ghosts look on

This cemetery.
This place had claim over at least half of his family.
Always spending a small fortune on plastic flowers once a month.
Leaving a few mismatched flowers per gravestone…
Some people he loved dearly.
Some he never knew.
Some he didn’t much care for.
But he was the last one…
What could he do?
Leave for some but not the others.
The ones he knew, he used to leave letters for.
He knew damn well that they had been long gone…
Graves now filled with bones, maybe dust at best.
But it made him feel better…
Well it used to.
He had stopped after one day returning to the graveyard to see a homeless man reading one of his letters, laughing hysterically while sipping a beverage out of a plastic bag.
So, he now just comes and leaves his plastic flowers and say’s his silent whispers in front of each gravestone.
Every gravestone.
He wonders who will visit him?
But quickly gets depressed and switch’s his thoughts.
But he does decide one thing…
His grave, if possible…
will include a mail slot.




Goodnight



Captain PirateFace



























1 comment:

TMALO70 said...

DUDE!!! I LOVE to Read Your Writin's... Never think for One Second that You or Your Thoughts are worthless or meanin'less... For I will Smack You about, should those words ever make their way to my ears or eyes... I Adore the Father/Daughter Story... It played out as Puppets in my head... Like Henson Puppets... Just do what You're doin' John... Write from the Heart and the Deepest, Darkest Reaches of Your Imagination, and You'll never go wrong in my book... I've got Your Sketch done already... I'm just workin' on one for Gina and Gables too... I wouldn't feel right not sendin' them one each as well...

Later,

Tony

How can you save me when you can't save yourself?

"nothing can save
you
except
writing.
it keeps the walls
from
failing."

Charles Bukowski