Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Food Chains

strange circle of life
ungainly walrus slays bear
grateful underdog

          This year I have been given a section of science to teach.  (I'm not a science teacher.)  I think I'm pulling it off well, though, as we have dug through owl pellets for bones and experimented with eating raw eggs.  Anyway, we watched a film about the circle of life today because we had been making mobiles that display various food chains.  It was eyeopening to see which kids rooted for the predators and which kids rooted for the prey.  Afterwards in a class discussion, some of my vegetarians said that they won't be mad when other people eat meat around them now because, "I guess meat's tasty to all animals!"  (I aim for accuracy, folks, but often accuracy takes the backseat in classroom discussions--i correct them on the big stuff.  For instance, recently one of the kids informed the class that Adam was white and Eve was black.  Hmmmmmm.....)  Another girl summed up the knowledge she had gained from the movie by yelling, "The circle of life sucks!"
          Long story short, the circle of life DOES suck.  And we are all predators and we are all prey.  For better or worse, we're the champions AND the underdogs.

this verse is for a new forum: dverse. You should check it out!

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Over Lake Grindoryl

        Here she goes again.  We halt flying, immediately, and perch on a solitary rock midway across the turbulent lake.  She is like this every time it rains.  We must stop, and wait. 
         I don't mind shapeshifting into human form, but right now I'm chilled and I'm annoyed with her insistence that we stop and shift into humans every time a droplet falls.  She tells me that the rain reminds her of him, and that human epidermis is more conducive to water absorption.  Well, she doesn't express it like that--in fact, I believe her words were,
        "His kisses slide too quickly down my feathers, and they are gone in an instant.  When I am human, they seep into my pores and never leave..."
         If I could bring him back and tell him what he has left me with I would, then I would kill him all over again.  How is it, despite merciless death, he still pours on her from above? Hence I will have to settle for taking revenge in the afterlife--across this darkened lake--when we get there. 

This vignette was a Magpie Tale...

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Plan B

The following is written for Sunday Scribblings.

Plan B looks like
me, letting go
of the wreckage i am drowning in.
It is taking advice
and switching canoes midstream
Leaping from one wobbly boat
to another
confident that this one
is sturdy enough to
take me safely where
i want to go.

Plan B looks like
you, getting smaller
in the midst of debris floating by.
It is taking advice
that this boat is not big enough
for the both of us
Rowing with all my might
away away away
hoping that this oar
is all i need to
take me eventually where
I can see the bottom

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Looking UP...

          Things are flying by so fast. where are the days going? I want to slow down and enjoy the ride a little more...(I hope you are soaking up some life today, too)
           I was gonna post my newest work, however, in my rush to leave my hellacious job on friday i left it in my bag at work.  Therefore i will just ask about you:  HOW are YOU?

(i'm listening....)

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Because it's all i can do...

          Can you all just sit back and listen for a moment? Because if i don't vent i will explode.  What, you may ask, is the crisis?  That would be the next logical question.  The answer, i would then say, is my rage at being powerless, being mortal, not being able to control others.  For a long time i hurt myself and in my addiction i was able to exist (barely) in a universe where all of my emotions were muted.  Anytime a painful or unwanted emotion would crop up, i could quickly tuck it back down my throat---way down deep in my stomach into a well of nothingness.   I understand wanting to check out of life, to not participate, to watch the sounds and colors pass by in a continuous blur, never stopping long enough so reality could come into focus.
          Having said all of that, it kills me to watch a family member be stuck in this way of life.  I thought it was hard being on the inside.  It's more painful being on the outside looking in.  At least that's how i feel today. 
          I miss having a sister.  I'm sick of the shell that encapsules who she once was.  She has transformed into a terrible version of a podperson.  She's there, but she's not there.  I hate seeing her because i am reminded of how i once was, and i hate seeing her because i cannot make her unstuck.  I cannot make her shed the victim cloak and join the land of the living.
          I am resentful towards other family members who allow her to continue this way and to make excuses for her way of life.  They give her pills and give her another reason to stay in the basement.  They tell her she is sick and that the medication will save her.  I know the medication will kill her, even long before she is dead.  (But what do i know?)
         I experience the pain of the ancient mortal seer Cassandra, who was blessed with gift of seeing into the future, but also given the curse of being disregarded (and frequently thought insane).  While i stand on the shores, crying the forthcoming fall of Troy, those around me ignore my protests and discount my experience.  I, too, envision, destruction.  Destruction of a person that "just isn't there."  Cassandra couldn't change anything. She was only a mortal.  And, today, so am i.

The following poem was especially related to the prompt of Tomorrow by sunday scribblings.

         My mortal stands on the clifftops
         of a rocky shoreline
          Watching the legions of armies coming from across the ocean
         To spill their courage and lifeblood
          An odd sense of dejavu befalls her
                  I have seen these soldiers die before
                  Crushed beneath a thousand arrows
                  Fallen silent in the entrails of the their mighty horses
                  I know the ending of this battle
she says tragically
          The saltwater blows at her feet
           Stinging her saturated skin
           My mortal doesn't want to watch anymore
             because she knows she won't be believed
            Apathetic eyes will turn away
             and go back to sharpening their swords
            It must be hard seeing ahead the despair tomorrow
             Despite the calm and silence of today.