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Licking Off Light I was surprised to find that you were afraid of the dark. You of all people should have nothing to fear in it. But then again, I too was once aware of the eyes and teeth and hulking spines that could press into shadows. I have heard their slitherings, I have heard the gnashings of their teeth. I grew out of these things, and there was a day where I realized that they did not belong with me, like that day I found that I could touch my toes to the ground as I dangled from monkey bars.

You never did.

Every night at eight, when the sun was beginning to slide off the expanse of the sky, you would turn on that one lightbulb, sitting like a

HorizonLeap of faith -
you can't be Icarus
with a safety net.

Zen in the Art of Botany"Consider this tree. It is new-grown, younger than you; yet in
another sense it is far older than I. What does this illustrate?"

"Renewal?"

"Close."

"Continuation?"

"Closer."

". . . I'm not sure."

"Perseverance."

"How so, roshi?"

"Consider."

". . ."

"What is it about the tree that perseveres?"

"It blooms every spring?"

"That would be renewal."

"It was seeded, and in turn seeds the next generation?"

"That would be continuation."

"It's composed of atoms, which are eternal?"

"Continuation again. Look deeper."

". . . Guide me, roshi."

"How does the tree respond to

The Trees Within UsAs the leaves touched the ground
tears fell from my eyes.
For I have seen what I've become,
the progress of what I am.

I am like a tree in spring
whose leaves brought shade to all.
And as I greet my dearest sunshine
I smiled at how I withstood the fall.

I am like a tree in summer,
basking under the mighty sun.
Celebrated life and its glory
by sharing life and making memories.

I am like a tree in autumn
whose leaves slowly withered.
Yet as my leaves kissed the soil,
a thousand friends I have garnered.

I am like a tree in winter,
blistered by the freezing cold.
But never did I give up hope
I know spring is my home.

Through t

An Islander's GuideThe Islander's Guide to Aviation

I bemuse the sun

trying to ascend

to her height

(as if!)–

the blue above

and the blue below

swap faces, exchange

gravities.

With wide eyes full

of African sun I

am admired; others dare me

to prove myself. How

little they understand.

See h

I don't need...I stare at the sea
(Unsympathetic, as always)
And suddenly remember
How to fly.
I cast off my wings
Your wings
And run through the sand
To the ocean.
My heart is lifting,
I can see past the horizon,
(Never look down)
My toes touch nothing
(You are finally gone)
I don’t need wings to fly.

The Tragic Cyclelife starts with a seed
and grows to become a tree...
---till one cuts it down.

The Dark People of Sao TomeThe dark people of Sao Tome with knotted muscles were told not to fly
By science, and a God that poked his head through the blue above.
There were dangers untold in the sunken underbellies of clouds
And none to wait with opened arms when they lost their hold on air.
They complied.
But things stirred, ever full and rich with truth
In the depths and canyons of their minds.
A weathered woman, old as rocks and water,
Would sometimes steal a moment or two to dream, to remember.
The passing days and months turned these moments into many hours.
One boy, young as sunrises, would place a foot in their air
And then the other, just to know th

TreeHe is a tree. He burrows into my flesh: thin, white roots twisting around tendons and networking through nerves, drinking blood. I can feel the grasping, greedy needle-tips pressing against my heart, puncturing holes. My lungs are filled with frayed edges, rootlets that go delving into fibrous tissue – finding words and worship. It makes me wheeze – a disease. My throat is full, bursting with all the things I cannot say around him. He kills me.

But at least he is living off me – needs me.

Before he was self-sufficient – a seed.

It is progress, of sorts.

Holding- Contest EntryHolding something simple in our hearts, in our hands.
The leaves falling down as we try to understand.
And tears fall so simply, but the wind sweeps them away.
Misery grew with the rain that day.
Life runs out real quick, you grow up so fast.
Make each moment last.
You hold in your hands the innocence of days.
What is left can’t be swept away.
To this world we are slight.
Always at the mercy of the moon at night.
Existence is up to nature.
You can’t hold off demise til later.
Count the rings running round your face.
You’ve only so long til it’s too late.

Flying leap

Sea waves
a siren call
on summer days

Lessons for flying and divingMy best friend is a big fan of diving. Me, I'm more of a flying guy. The only difference is that when flying you're not supposed to plummet in the end. I can't say I ever understood the fear of heights. It's the depths that really get to me.

The last time my best friend went diving he forgot to come back. I'm still waiting. They tell me he's going to rise up some day. He better have, so that I can finally teach him to fly. There's just one trick to it: don't fall. That ain't no rocket science.

ProgressWe shuffle a few paces forward - before coming to a halt again - along a rutted path crawling through a dried-out landscape towards the gates of the Arboretum that lies, so they say, somewhere in the distance. Around me I can hear a few of the Pilgrims muttering a quiet prayer, but mostly people are silent, huddled in their suits, conserving their strength and numbly waiting their turn.

I’m bored, tired, and irritable and I ache all over my body. Sweat puddles inside my helmet.

“Tell story! Tell it! Tell Jesus story!”

A little red and angry face peers up at me through a smeared and dusty faceplate. A little hand tugs at the

Fuujin, the Anemophiles

Captive island child,
metamorphosis, wings grown,
wind-borne lovemaking.

Shredded From Lifethe strand of life ripped
taken from what life was, now
by the soul, one tree

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Claustrophobic

My hands are unable to remain silent for long. Through tortured blinks, their control slackens, and they start to screech against the surrounding walls. My brain follows their example – crying aloud for help, shouting at my body to stop running away.

My legs are twisting and turning, my eyes melting until all I can see is blackness; all I can feel are the sickening revulsions and unshakeable impulses that my body is enduring. The air gets tighter with every second that passes, compacting as the walls close in upon me like some sick gang with no motive but to quench their throats with my fear. Always, my legs and arms flail; jumping i

Lipogram: ClocksClocks consist of lots of things,
But a minority lay stark in front.

I always find that four words can sound so slick and smooth, but in losing my ‘soft’, my ‘hiss’ and ‘hum’, and in losing my always brilliant ‘hark’, I find that I am at a loss as to what I own in what is truly (I find) an unknown way of living. Sitting now upon a small and round stool, I am on my own, and, hour through to hour, think of my situation as a truly abnormal barathrum.

I know now that forks may harm, if dug down far into skin, but in my past, I didn’t know at all that many fork utilisations can’t spoil

Every day I pass a monster...Every day I pass a monster,
It hides besides my bed,
Corrosive acid on my thoughts,
Obesity unfed.

Every day I pass a monster,
Upon my way to work,
Crouching behind every corner,
Destroying every perk.

Every day I pass a monster,
Spoiling the food I eat,
Poisoning my every step,
A crop-destroying peat.

Every day I pass a monster,
And my conscience screams and burns,
For every day I pass a mirror,
But never do I learn.

Curse of the WitchesWe have all of your thumbs within
Our secret little lair,
We’re witches, with long nails and
Annoyingly long hair.

If ever you should try to eat
Something that needs your thumbs,
We’ll grab it, and then we’ll retreat,
And put it in our tums!

Every time that you go out
When the lawn needs a mow
Do not forget to scream and shout,
When you find we stole your clothes.

If you should ever try to sail
Out upon the great sea,
You better be prepared to wail,
When your boat starts to sink!

[CHORUS]
We’re witches, with our nails long,
Our rags and potions and dainty song,
We’re witches, you’

RedemptionTo the reader,

Thank you. In picking up this letter, you saved my life. You saved the lives of my two poor children, and you made purposeful the life of my recently drowned husband. How? Memory. You picked up the only piece of evidence that we care.

We know that people hate us, and we know that that’ll affect us until we all, all of us, pass away. However, that doesn’t mean we don’t care about what people think about us – we do, we sorely do. Every night, I can hear my young girl of only six years old silently weeping into her pillow. Every day, when I wake up in the morning, I know that there’s going to be a c

Untitled.A cold, harsh table greets the bottom of the cup,
Forceful, like a panther, and yet playful as a pup.
Inside, shake reflections of the sky, so young, above,
The shimmering liquid bobbing as a calmly flying dove.

The knuckle holding to the cup grasps it with tightened skin,
Old and wrinkled in the light, though youth still edges in.
Uncertainty about the posture of the ever-gripping hand
Leaves the cup unsure of where it’s placed, on rock or upon sand.

Sixty years the cup has lain outside the old man’s home,
And the hand has gone, decayed; the stench inside the home: unknown.
The owner of the hand has now returned,

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Darkness

by ~MaskedVengeance, Aug 17, 2007, 4:26:45 PM
Contests / 2007 / fotoFriday Anniversary Contest / Literature Submissions

Sitting beneath trees,
Darkness prevails inside.
And so you seek light.

10 Comments

Darknessby ~MaskedVengeance

Contests / 2007 / fotoFriday Anniversary Contest / Literature Submissions

©2007-2013 ~MaskedVengeance

A haiku.

This is inspired by 'Darkness' by *muratsuyur Hopefully, you can see how.

Obviously, this is for the FotoFRIDAY Anniversary contest

(more information about the contest is here, with the theme being ' progress ' ).

=BlendedPaths Nov 17, 2007 Hobbyist Photographer

Sometimes the most powerful statements are made with the fewest words. This is such a true and powerful piece.

Reply

~MaskedVengeance Nov 18, 2007

Thanks.

I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Reply

!Dragonfly2093 Aug 20, 2007

I know what I think about this but I'm finding it difficult to write down; I'll have a go if you like...hm, good luck with the contest, anyway!

Reply

~MaskedVengeance Aug 20, 2007

Heh, thanks, and it'd be cool if you could write it down.

Reply

!Dragonfly2093 Aug 21, 2007

Well, I think "so you seek light" is about the light bulb coming out...because of the "darkness prevails inside" yet that line could also be "darkness prevails inside the lightbulb" but the lightbulb might find light outside somehow...yeah, ok, that doesn't make much sense

. At least, I don't think this is to do with the political meaning of the photo.

Reply

~kittykatlozzy Aug 18, 2007

ooh lala love it

Reply

~MaskedVengeance Aug 19, 2007

Thanks.

Reply

~kittykatlozzy Aug 19, 2007

ne time hun no probs

Reply

~MaskedVengeance Aug 20, 2007

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~kittykatlozzy Aug 20, 2007

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