I looked into her eyes and by god there where three. One was in the middle of her forehead staring at me. Peering thru the smoke she told me of her dreams. She had lived over 2000 years, had a one night stand with Jesus Christ, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. She seduced siddartha sitting under the Lotus tree. She fed him enlightenment in increments…inhale…exhale…he ate of the tree of knowledge with his head between her thighs as she moaned in extasy seeing visions simultaniously, shouting blessings and curses vehemently as she evaporated into the sun again penetrating thru the atmosphere in her acsencion, coming back again as precipitation to water the lilies of the field and the tongues of the damned and the birds and the bees spread her seeds throughout the land as she pulled in the tide with a wave of her hand. The sun and the moon…Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu…Death, Life, and Rebirth, and the cycle continues…the temple is destroyed and rebuilt from the ruins… You should put a bandanna over that so as not to freak people out I told her, and she told me of a dream she dreamt last week…she woke up dead on the kitchen floor with a slice of pizza stuck to the side of her face…remembering her life as if it was a dream someone had dreamt sometime so long ago.
…and we sang listless melodies devoid of the inconvenient infra-stuctures of reason or ryme under the star-lit heavens. Our audience was the man in the moon and the coyotes joined in on the chorus as the big dipper poured out the benevolent blessings of springtime, annointing our heads with the nightly dew, baptising us with salvation from the icey pangs of winter stored in our bones… consumed with joyful reveries of times to come. Brighter days are here at last, in the moment the past didn’t matter and the future was a far away illusion the thought of which was proposterous and surreal…a gentle breeze blew ruffling our hair and fluttering our hearts, quickening the Spirit, sending gyrations to the cerebrum as we ascended into the medula, transcending the world of suffering, surrendering into the sweet abyss of nothingness…and time flew out of the window and into the street and was trampled by a million marching man-eating manatees flying in V-formation to the west, chasing the setting sun which rose simultaneously in the underworld illuminating the sunken temple of Atlantis, peeping thru the pillars of the ruins…and we followed the procession of the moon across the sky being pulled by a cherub with a rope tied around his ankle, forever banished by the gods to drag his ball and chain…As we gaze in wonder another fallen angel shoots across the sky.
I like the second offering better than the first. Still, it has all the makings of a drug-induced stream of consciousness while being stranded on the high prairie.
The black background makes it rather difficult to read with the text so small. I was able to read it, but many may not.
Ireland 1944.. A young man’s body is pulled from the River Lee. He’s wearing a distinctive silver ring that belonged to Paudy Daly, the eldest son of the notorious Mixer Daly. Why?
Ireland 1947. Seven weeks of relentless snow. Guard Eamon Foley is searching for a missing child.
At Toby Appleyard’s farm, he discovers the kitchen littered with dead cats. And the skeletal remains of a woman. Upstairs, Toby is dead in his bed.
Autumn 1940. Germany invades Britain. Newport is blitzed. Danny O’Shea’s house is bombed, his wife is killed. While taking his young son Adam to neutral Ireland, they witness an attack on a German convoy. The result is brutal.
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The black background makes it rather difficult to read with the text so small. I was able to read it, but many may not.
Ron