I Can’t Fly With Broken Wings


Broken Wings (film)
Image via Wikipedia

Within my chest is the heart to fly,

But I cannot soar into the sky,

Though my dreams allow me to sing,

I can’t fly with broken wings,

Once I circled proud and free,

Fueled by your love’s energy,

Haughty was I in mundane things,

Now I can’t fly with broken wings,

You gave your body but not your heart,

When you left, my world came apart,

My realm was toppled, no longer I’m king,

How can I fly with broken wings,

Once the world was beautiful as I flew,

But that was while I traveled with you,

Now I’m waiting to see what the future brings,

Because I can’t fly with broken wings.

 

In a Bad Mood


British nurse in nurses' station.
Image via Wikipedia

“You have a hernia,”

My doctor declared.

“You’re going to have problems,

If you don’t have it repaired.”

On Friday the thirteenth,

My surgery was set.

“Be at the hospital at six.”

It was written so I didn’t forget.

I made arrangements with a neighbor,

To get me there at six precise.

But that early in the morning,

She’d have to sacrifice.

True to her word she was on time,

Though the morning was icy and cold.

“You don’t have to pick me up later.

I have a ride home,” she was told.

Checking in was real easy.

My paperwork was already done.

Yet I was a little tense already.

The thirteenth had just begun.

I got my instructions and undressed.

And slipped on my hospital gown.

It was tied securely but still drafty.

There was no back to be found.

An early shift nurse placed my clothes.

In a bag and in my backpack.

Out of sight, out of mind,

In a locker they were stacked.

Afterwards while I recovered,

I wanted to know when I could leave.

If it was going to be soon,

I wanted my clothes to retrieve.

According to my nurse,

I was recovering very well.

I could leave if I continued progressing,

But only time could really tell.

If the pain had lessened,

And I could finally urinate,

The surgeon said it would be okay,

For the nurse to release me late.

After much discussion,

A nurse said my clothes were found.

It wouldn’t be long before I was gone,

And I’d be homeward bound.

My thoughts were on my friend,

Who had driven from work afar.

She must be cold and anxious,

And tired of waiting in her car.

I passed nurses looking for someone.

That was my humble conclusion.

“Which way did he go?” one nurse asked.

“Over here,” I heard in all the confusion.

I followed, trying to stay out of the way,

But I lost them when I stopped to pee.

The nurses were hunting for someone.

I didn’t realize they were searching for me.

Strange things were definitely going on.

I heard them calling for “Dan”.

“What a coincidence,” I thought.

“I’ll help them if I can.”

Through the halls I wandered.

I was hot on Dan’s trail.

But the nurses couldn’t catch him,

And I was also destined to fail.

However, it was Friday the 13th,

And a full moon rose to boot.

I forgot about the fugitive,

Because it was time to scoot.

Disheveled and carrying my backpack,

A large bloody spot on my shirt,

I saw no one around to question,

Sir, are you badly hurt?”

My friend eyed me suspiciously,

When I climbed in and asked to go.

“Did you tell anyone you were leaving?

I think they would want to know.”

“Where’s your nurse and your wheelchair?

I’m sure a release you’ll need.

I think they’ll all be concerned,

If the checkout rules you didn’t heed.”

My friend called the nurse in charge,

Trying to make things right.

In a short while the nurse arrived.

She said, “It’s been a long, tiring night.”

My friend helped the nurse whisk me inside,

So I could be officially checked out.

They both seemed a little peeved,

With the full moon out and about.

I said, “It’s been fun.”

And I tried not to sound rude,

Even though Friday the 13th,

Put my nurses in a bad mood.

Shrieks, Laughter, and Noisy Gulps


Mice with different coat colors.
Image via Wikipedia

It wasn’t
the usual sound of mice running up and down inside the walls.  It wasn’t the sound of bats as they pushed
for favorite positions.  Something else
was stirring things up again tonight.  Jeremy
didn’t care what it was.  He needed his
sleep.   This was the third night that he had been
roused from his sleep by shrieks, by laughter, and by noisy gulps.  Each night at midnight something, either a
mouse or a bat, tried to scramble away.  Its
tiny feet scrabbled against the wall in desperation, but always the resolution
was the same.  Eventually it was devoured
slowly by something, and the something enjoyed it very much.

Jeremy
thought he could hear faint laughter after each kill. He didn’t mind having the
rodent or bat population reduced, but night was his time to rest and gather
strength.  Enough was enough!  Tomorrow he would not wait idly by and listen
as something attacked. He would enact his plan.
Jeremy had thought long and hard.
Sleep deprivation had driven him to the sheer boldness of it.  He would not run or question.  This was a matter of having sheer nerve.

Jeremy was
so tired he called in sick for work.  Since
he still couldn’t sleep he took the time to draw a Cartesian plane stretching
from ceiling to floor, wall to wall.
Strategic points were labeled and marked.  To the left of zero were the negative numbers
and to the right, the positive numbers.
Numbers above zero on the y axis, being positive represented things that
flew.  Numbers below zero would represent
things that crawled or walked.  He toiled
through the day, painting his wall with all kinds of imaginary creatures.  Then he waited for the sounds to begin.

As he lay on the bed he checked the weapons he
had gathered:  One large hunting knife
with serrated blade, a pistol he had found after a rival shootout, and a pick
he had discovered near an unfinished burial plot.  Maybe they weren’t capable of taking care of
something, but they were better than nothing.
He had also taken some precautions.
In the local church Jeremy had filled a small bottle with holy
water.  He had sprinkled some on his weapons,
some on himself, and saved some to baptize a demon or an angel.

The night
seemed longer than usual and Jeremy found himself fighting sleep.  Then the faint sounds began.  First quadrant!  He gripped the knife.  Second quadrant!  The sounds were moving…or were they coming
from both at the same time?  He listened
intently.  Fourth quadrant, then the third.  All four quadrants were vibrating and full of
sounds.

The mice
were silent and the bats were still, yet two large objects were in the wall, moving
away and back again.  Jeremy lunged with
the knife and stabbed the thin wall. The serrated blade slid easily through and
plunged into something thicker.  A gasp
and a tiny cry, and then blood spurted high.
The knife shook and disappeared into the wall.  He held the pistol and aimed.  One shot and a hit.  Something collapsed and slid downward to the right.  Jeremy chuckled.  “A negative linear equation forms a line
slanting down to the right.  My algebra
teacher would be so proud of me.  My plan
worked.  I think I got a demon or two.”

All was silent
for a long time until the faint sounds of mice running inside the wall caught
his attention.  He fell asleep
again.  He could sleep with mice racing
inside the walls or even across the bed.
Bats stirred and fluttered their wings. Their minute noises were
annoying but would not keep him awake.
Something larger moved about.  “I
can sleep peacefully with angels guarding me,” he said aloud.

A snicker, a chortle, and a deep belly laugh
followed.  “Then why did you stab and
shoot the two guardian angels?” a gruff voice asked.  Jeremy’s eyes popped open just in time to see
a demon tearing at the sides of the hole made by the knife.  He grabbed for the pick.  His fingers found nothing.

“Are you
looking for this?” a voice asked behind him.
“It should be stuck in zero.  You
do know your luck is now zero, don’t you?”

Jeremy’s hand
found the small bottle.  In a wide circle
he swung the holy water and drops splashed about the room but not in time to
save Jeremy.  Even though his fate was
sealed his bottle of water was already cleaning everything evil from the room.

A neighbor called the police and when they
arrived the scene had already changed.

Two detectives
roped off the scene and began their investigation.  The younger detective shook his head. “I
think it’s a clear sign of someone going berserk.  Why he would stab and shoot the wall is
crazy.”

His partner frowned and said, “Living in this
dump is enough to drive anyone insane.
We’ve only been here a short while and already this place is bothering
me.  There are sounds in the wall and
when we first got here I thought blood was dripping from that hole over
there.  And what’s with this Cartesian
plane?  What does it signify?  There are two lines slanting down to the
right and when we first arrived there was only one.  Don’t tell the captain but I think there’s
more to this story.  Was this a suicide
or murder?  I’ll let the coroner decide
this one.”

Three blocks
away in a small house two newlyweds lay talking about their future.  “We’ve been married for six weeks.  We found this house and it’s perfect for us,”
she whispered.

“Yes,” he replied, “But remind me to call an
exterminator.  The last three nights I’ve
heard sounds in the wall.  A mouse or two
can be taken care of easily but I’ll see how much it costs.  I might get rid of the pests myself as soon
as I have time.  Sweet dreams, my
love.  I’ll lie awake all night making
sure you’re protected.”

Two demons
waited patiently on one side of the roof.  A short distance away two angels also
waited.  One of the angels said, “You
might have won the last battle, but we’re determined to win this one.  Just because it’s getting close to Halloween
doesn’t mean we going to let you take a few more souls.”

The demons
smiled and one of them said, “People help us this time of year.  Can’t you see all the mean tricks they’re
playing?  They’re trying to get even with
each other and having fun.  If we just
make a few noises and scare a few people they’ll go completely crazy.  Forget about love.  It doesn’t exist this time of year.”  He paused for a moment.  “Happy Halloween!”

“It’ll Come For You!”


shadow people
Image by BEYOURPET via Flickr

“Tell me a
scary story, Papa,

One that won’t
let me sleep,”

 

“Okay,
child, I’ll tell you one,

That will be
dark and deep,”

 

“Papa, is it the one about a toe,

Where the
monster seeks revenge?”

 

“No, child,
this one is scarier yet,

And you’ll
be in the middle, not on the fringe,”

 

“Papa, tell
me true,

Is it something that happened to you?”

 

“Yes, my
child, once when all was locked tight,

I was
writing a story in the midst of night,

When out of
the corner of my eye,

I saw a movement, then a shape in the moonlight,

I turned but
not fast enough,

For only a
shadow remained in sight,

Then it, too,
was gone in a flash,”

“My mind is
playing tricks on me,” I said,

“I think it’s
time for me to go to bed,”

 

“Papa, is
that the end of the story?”

 

“Be patient,
my child, for there is more,

I went into
my room and closed the door,

But I could
feel , yes, feel, eyes fixed outside,

Wanting for me
to open wide the door,

And so I
did, expecting nothing but my fear,

But there
was a man standing there,

I guess he’d
been there for awhile,

Looking at
me straight on with an evil smile,”

 

“Papa, were
you scared, what did you do?”

 

“He wore a
cloak, his eyes were red,

I closed the
door, stayed awake in bed,

Waited until
the dawn’s first light,

To see if I
was alive or dead,

He was
standing in that very hall,

Now go to
sleep, if you can sleep at all,”

 

“Papa, I’m
scared, is this story true?

Did this
really happen to you?”

 

“Child, it
happened night after night,

Your mother
couldn’t take it,

Always
mumbling about an awful fright,

Eventually it
scared her enough  and she took flight,

She’s living
in a home for those disturbed,

Claiming she’s
okay and not perturbed,

She claims
my story is quite inane,

And I’m the
one who’s really insane,

My story is
not long, but it is true,

Now go to
sleep, my child, or it’ll come for you.”

 

 

 

“Why, oh Why, Am I in the Who’s Who”?


Anaxagoras, presocratic philosopher.
Image via Wikipedia

I breathe, I
sleep, I eat, I find ways to exist,

The world
has too many good things to list,

I see the
rich running at a frantic pace,

How can they
enjoy the world they face,

I get questions from those in the know,

As I travel
my path going to and fro,

“Why are you
here, from where did you come?”

“What does
it matter if I follow my own drum?”

Whatever I
asked for, (You might think this is funny),

There was
nothing to be shared in this land of milk and honey,

I didn’t
have a roof over my head,

“You can’t
sleep here, hit the road instead,”

So off I
walked from town to town,

Nowhere was
I allowed to rest and stick around,

“You’re
looking good, you’re so thin,

Tell us your
secrets you keep within,

We’ve tried everything
, the latest fad,”

I said, “Don’t
eat sometimes,” and they went away sad,

When the
world told me what to do,

I didn’t
listen because I was just passing through,

When their
sails puffed up with pompous air,

Should the rudder
listen or should it care?

The same
flowers are there for all to see,

Can that
beauty be kept from you and me?

And the
wonder of the glorious sky,

Is there for
all who have an appreciative eye,

All my needs
each day are met,

Can’t you
see the humor yet?

All the tech
and all the toys, all the cutting edge,

The gossip,
the drama, the rich person’s wedge,

I was thrown
in jail for having no visible support,

My space was
limited with no place to cavort,

A committee
was formed, my case to review,

“I know,”
said one, “Let’s list him in “Who’s Who”,

He’s a
philosopher, a poet, a religious freak,

A traveler,
a health nut, his experiences we’ll tweak,

He’ll be a
hero to the downtrodden throughout the land,

But even
better he’ll be off our hands,”

A penniless
traveler will be on the marquee,

A bum that’s
footloose and fancy free,

Rubbing
shoulders with the filthy rich,

What a
hoot!, The thought makes me itch,

The wealth
of the world is the beauty I see,

And the
earth shares it with the “Who’s Who”, and me.

 

 

 

Jungle Law


I cling to my branch watching the trail below,

Hoping those hungry leopards don’t show,

I think one of them gobbled up pop,

Mom was next, the leopard wouldn’t stop,

I screamed for help but to no avail,

That’s one reason now I watch the trail,

I could be singing and dancing with glee,

But that certainly would make a target of me,

I’ve got chimpanzee friends in high places,

Ready to swing down if I see leopard faces,

In return I will keep a sharp eagle eye,

For any hungry looking animal passing by,

So while I watch the chimp children play,

We all feel more secure yet another day,

I’m at my post and I cannot sleep,

For I made promises I intend to keep,

I’ll scream out loud with a warning cry,

If something unusual catches my eye,

Those chimp children are all over the place,

So I’m especially alert for a leopard face,

Should I give a warning to the group,

They’d better go quickly to their troop,

There is safety in numbers with fang and claw,

For tragedy strikes quickly, it’s jungle law.

Up ↑