Veritas – dVerse

If I had the belief
had the guts to be street-wise,
could save my own spirit
from those pernicious, damned white lies,
I’d grasp it with both hands
and take the world on my plate
adopt the mentality,
eliminate the disparity
that pervades every alleyway, back street and door,
I’ve said it too many times
from down here, from the floor
that the shadow that dogs us,
pulls us down to the ground
is the vague sense of emptiness,
the lack of completeness,
the dullness, great sadness,
the all-pervading madness,
no – there ain’t no Messiah
at the bottom of that glass,
or in that last chocolate chip cookie
I’m adding to my ass,
no, where we’re all going
– those silent, straight rows –
won’t give us the second chance,
we can’t repeat the romance,
do it all over again,
have just one more, sweet last dance,
excuse our poor ability,
blame our short life’s fragility,
nobody will do it for us, it’s a tragedy
of giant proportions
we can’t believe the distortions
the hard work is necessity
and we must do it ourselves –
be our own self-believers
and lovers, and fighters
for at the end of my journey
when the white light is calling
the one, the last judge on my mind
will be me.

 

Veritas

———-

This week, on dVerse Poetics, Anthony has asked us to write a poem using at least 5 of the words below:

 – Messiah, Allegory, Luminous, Plate, Shadow, Door, Persona, Glass, Vitiligo, Epochal, Pernicious, Warmth –

What a collection! I didn’t really have a particular idea in mind before I started, but then, as is often the case, my poet brain took over. It’s a bit of a rant – about trusting yourself, about not buying into consumerism, about feeling free to be your true self… Lots of issues, mixed up in one, big old chunk of words. I think I’m still considering Claudia’s question yesterday about how real we get in our writing. And I just know that each poem offered up by the dVerse community will be vastly different. A great prompt, Anthony!

Please pop over to dVerse to see how others have taken the bait – and enjoy!

 

 

Honey – Sunday Photo Fiction

59-05-may-11th-2014

She’s not as young as the others, mid-forties I’d say. No precarious stilettoes, no fishnets, no vaudeville make-up mask. She wears sensible heels, a slightly loose-round-the-hips pencil skirt, a classy turquoise silk blouse.

I think she’s an office worker caught up in the wrong crowd. But no, she leans in to the slowing cars along with the best of them. She knows her stuff; it’s second nature. The professional smile flashes on, leaves her eyes alone. A real pro.

I can’t hear what she says over the traffic, but can lip-read enough. She’s not shy about the trade, knows her worth. Drivers shake their heads, move on to the cheaper packages, the ones who need the money for the pimp and the needle. Finally, she stands alone.

The Rolls Royce sweeps into view. Here he is, her target. No need to show her wares. Her eyes smile now. A rear door opens, out steps her man. She sashays slowly around the bonnet, tapping her nails lightly on its gleaming paintwork.

“A little late tonight. Five hundred, Mr Sloane.”

I hear her now; the street is empty.

“A steal, my dear. And my pleasure, as always.”

 

————–

I am trying to be consistent and write for Alistair’s Sunday Photo Fiction  each week. He supplies us with his own wonderful photos, so deserves our support! I was looking through my files of flash fiction pieces, saw the semi-finished piece and tweaked it a little. I think it works – and it’s certainly not obvious! I hope you enjoy it – and please do visit his blog, take a look at the other submissions and take part, if you feel inspired (and why wouldn’t you?!). Happy Sunday, all….

Do take part if you have time, or just pop over and read the other entries!

Gas Street Basin

Bypasses and ringroads

motorbikes and cars

modern modes of transport

leave their gaping scars upon this land

so green and pleasant,

we yearn for times gone by

but gazing at the narrow-boat

I wonder if our eye has rose-tinted

our view of the water-born

workhorse, now driven for pleasure

coal-carrying forgotten as we

pursue times of leisure and joy.

The canals were our highways,

industry was fuelled by these watery

paths – fumes, dust and noise

clogging the arteries of England’s

long spine.

———–

This week on dVerse Poetics, Shanyn would like us to write about the rhythm of transport. This long weekend, I have been staying with my family who hail from what southerners in England refer to as The North. Well, I was born and brought up in the West Midlands, which is hardly The North, but we do have a lot of industrial history of which to be proud!

Apparently, my birth city of Birmingham has more canals than Venice, and they were used for commerce in support of the the Industrial Revolution. I imagine that they were dusty, noisy, smelly and very, very busy. Traffic jams of narrowboats would have been commonplace, especially in places such as Tardebigge, which has a flight of  30 locks. Taking a boat through a lock system is not to be taken lightly! These days, the canals are used for pleasure, and I think many people tend to to forget that they were the motorways of their day. So, this was my inspiration! Oh, and Gas Street Basin is where a number of canal systems meet in the centre of Birmingham – very pretty now, not so lovely back in the times when it was a working hub of the canal system.

I hope you enjoy this – please pop over to dVerse to see how my fellow poets have been inspired!