life’s journeys

Week 168

1. Feign

2. Gait

3. Torn

4. Press

5. Left

6. Labyrinthine adj. complicated, torturous, resembling a labyrinth

7. Look

8. Embed

9. Malformed

10. Gritty

11. Natural

12. Dead-reckoning (In navigation, dead reckoning is the process of calculating one’s current position by using a previously determined position, or fix, and advancing that position based upon known or estimated speeds over elapsed time and course.)

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem The words can appear in an alternate form Use the words in any order that you like.

Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle

I look upon my world. Naturally dead-reckoning has put me nowhere. My gait has deeply embedded a left turning path of malformed circles. But still I press on.

My gritty reality torn from labyrinthine puzzle that feigns living.

History – Twisted by Nature

First, a simple thought. History by Nature means is has already happened. Today and this hour has little impact on History. History is tainted by the people who retell the facts or believed truths. So when someone jumps up to define the problems of History, please understand it is not your place. When you have lived in someone else’s circumstances and know their time period well enough to respect the people who went through it, your eyes might see why things have changed.

Back in 1924, several small towns set up a collection. The idea started about 1890 when the Southern states started losing their Civil War veterans. Although Robert E Lee opposed any statues being raised to him or his Generals, the Southern public wanted to memorialize them. Much like the one in Charlottesville, Va. This was something paid for by the orginal “Go Fund Me” practice of socials by average almost middle class families. Keep in mind every family lost someone and saw more come back wounded. “Remember the boys who wore the grey”

The statue did not carry any Confederate States of America insignias. The soldiers who the statue memorialize, died and were probably left in empty fields. Both sides saw 620,000 soldiers lost their lives and another million were injured beyond the ability to return to the War and their regular lives. The Southern states had no Army or Navy on April 12, 1861. Their fields that supplied their industry and food were almost exclusively the battlefields of the Civil War.

The Monuments to the common “Johnny Reb” are not monuments of hate but remembrance. It is unfair to celebrate its destruction as a political statement. No government or party of hate created this chunk of bronze. While today “enlightened” protesters are correct in that slavery is wrong, maybe they should remember indentured servitude and corporate towns were normal perils of lower classes that impacted just as many people.

Facts are terrible ways to argue a point here. But the slaves in Maryland, Kentucky, Delaware and DC were not freed by President Lincoln. He didn’t free any slaves unless they were “recovered” in the States that rebelled and territory controlled by the US Army. Condemning the statue of a simple soldier fighting for their way of life (shocker here must Southerns didn’t own slaves). The Ninth Amendment gave powers that were not specifically designated to the Federal Government to the States themselves. In 1807, Massachusetts argued the Louisiana purchase would cause small states to lose its representation to these new larger territories. Secession was an old idea in 1861 but far from illegal. The primary factor in secession was economic. The South had tariffs placed on their raw materials ( mostly cotton, sorgham & hemp) by a predominately Northern Controlled Congress that wanted to sell finished goods to the world. Southern cotton seen to England made New England factories less money. These factories also were the ones with Company stores and their own currency. The Civil War was also due in part to Lincoln would never meet with any representatives of the CSA, because it would legitimize the country in European views.

So remind me of why we tear down a soldiers statue in the name of preserving our modern way of life. Violence by any group is still rooting at best and terrorism if done to stand any message.

But just my thoughts.

Sunday Whirl – Gambling

A bag of answers laugh at me. I’ll reflect upon the smoke of my options left bare. Agents of misfortune band together casting their stones back at my direction.

Time to leave blackjack tables.

Glaring Problem?

My sunglasses do well

My problems seem to disappear

Out of sight all the better

I reveal in blindness

it takes away the pain

We are all flawed

But no sense in dwelling

It is all an illusion

A dance without a tune

A song played by swaying trees

Like a shadow or lost puppy

They follow my every move

But problems aren’t glaring

if you don’t look

Keep Off the Grass

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dorothy. Thank you!

“Boys, WHAT does the Sign say!” Glenda smiles at her transgressers.

Two boys halt as if caught in a spider’s web. They hop off the tandom bike together.

“Ugh. We just live over there. We always cut through here.” Joshua looks back at his younger brother.

“There’s a path. You make that by going over and over my lawn!” Glenda puts her right hand on her hip. Her left hand circles around the boys.

Slowly the boys leave the ground.

“I can keep you off the lawn in more than one way. Allow me to show you the only nice way!” Glenda cackles in laughter.

“Joshua! Let’s get out of here!” Thomas spinning his arms thinking of he flies like a bird it may help.

“Just let’s us go, please!” Joshua shakes as he sees what she had done to them. “We won’t ever did it again. Promise!”

“I know you will only be able to do it once more!” Glenda moves her right hand upward toward the left. She makes a line with hands moving opposite directions. ” I know.”

The boys fall Earthward. They jump on the bike never to be seen hete again.

187 words

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writers, details available at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/08/07/fffaw-challenge-week-of-august-8-2017/

The Tides

Tides wash away the day

Flotsam and jetsam of tomorrow

Awaiting to meet sand of yesterday

My thoughts like lagan lay buried

Churning seas push and pull at them

Still the tide wash away the day

Dreams like whitecaps ripple

Appearing here then there

Like illusions I long to hold

I watch them drift away

Yet still the tides wash away the day

Yesterday gives me place

Resting here I replay days

Beyond me hope floats

Riding waves free to move on

But still the tides wash away the day

*flotsam (floating debris) & jetsam (subsurface debris) are joined by lagan (sunken debris) here

Watched Over

“In the end, we all become stories.” Derisè whispers to her child. “Margaret Atwood told us.”

Her left hand rises.

“There was a hummingbird. He set forth on this world to let loose the seed of the rainbow papaya. His partner is transforming our place was the fox. The fox driven by his interest in funding something better than gooseberries no eat. Mr Hummingbird was much to fast to be eaten. The fox liked him for that.” Desirè looks down at her little grandson.

“Why didn’t he eat something else?” Peter looks up at his Granny. ” Foxes sneak and grab everything.”

“Peter, everyone has roles to play and rules they must follow.” Desirè laughs “Mother Earth is the water barrier. She spills life. This life picks and chooses how they will help out the world.”

“But how does she know the animals are following what they have to do?” Peter moves his hands waving at the stars emerging in the purple of twilight.

“If you ever see an eye looking at someone’s window, she is there.” her voice becomes a laugh “We are at peace when every animal follows the plan. It is we, that she watches.”

Written as part of a challenge called Collage details are available at https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/08/06/writing-prompt-205-special-collage/

Missing

“Did you notice a girl? She ran be this way… maybe an hour ago.” Barry looks at his diminutive counterpart.
His eyes notice the old house. Great spidling detail with cracked flakes of paint that should have been white at one time.

“Seen noone, slick. It’s not where you turn a little piece run…. loose.” Sly spits out a watermelon seed. It beautifully arches ten feet landing on the toe of brand new white shoes.
Barry kicks toe clear of seed. “Its important. She isn’t the kind to be, well here.”

“You don’t like MY neighborhood?!” Sly sits up his fill four feet. He slips a knife through the watermelon. The blade slides effortlessly. A single stream of juice bleeds across the red table. But dark tiny eyes burn against Barry’s skin.

“Dude, just looking for my girl. I never spent time here. You circus people don’t seem to like…. My people being around. I feel the looks.” Barry standing slightly slumped. His back curls and he tries not to look normal. “Seriously, if you seen her..”

“You are what, a model? Us circus people are so judgemental. What would a normal girl do here? I’d love to have, say dinner with one like her.” Sly takes a napkin and wipes his mouth. The white napkin shows of his rudy hands with yellow nails.

“Did you see her?” Barry stands tall and steps toward the porch.

“See her?! We had mystery dinner tonite. It served twelve of us. I even had room for dessert.” Sly spits out a fingernail. The silver ombre tip catches the light. “Watermelon? It’s National Watermelon Day!”

“Is that what i think it is?!” Barry shakes.

“Genius it’s a watermelon!” Sly smiles a crooked smile.