For me, this holiday season is a time for resetting perspectives.  I’ve had a fortunate year, and right now it’s very easy to look at being without a job as the worst possible gift for the holiday seasons, but it’s times like these when I need to take a step back and really look at everything from a new perspective.

The other day I found a comic that made me think.  The question is, what would you ask for if you had one single wish.  This allowed me to take a second and daydream about what I’d do with that one wish, and how that would change my view of the world around me.

Despite money troubles, or anything else going on in my life.  I’d wish for super powers like Superman had.  Coming to this realization really set me free, I imagine looking on the things that are trials to me now and seeing how bad they’d be then, and it gave me a peace that I hope everyone else can enjoy when taking a look at their life from a different point of view.  I’ve heard this technique also referred to as “count your many blessings” whatever works best for you.

The real question I have is, “If you had one wish, what would you wish for?”

The Rhyme scheme for this poem is ‘a – b – a – b – a – b’

The night holds the key
To passion like fire
I roar like the sea
I have one desire
About a quilting bee
“Does a bee quilt?” I inquire

This poem seems out of place and confusing, but takes place mostly in songs where a “really great hook” doesn’t exactly match anything else at all… but it’s a great hook.

I watch the clock as it tick tocks the hours away.  Never enough time in the day, never the hours I want to spend doing everything that suits my interest before the hours call back to me.  I curse time, the enemy who forces me from the present and takes me to the uncertain future.

Time is an ally, a friend who releases the pain and helps me find a new horizon.  As long as I have time I have potential and a future.  I cannot complain so hard about the present as I know that time will sweep it away and all my troubles of today will be different when I turn around again and five years have gone by.

I’m lost in my thoughts on time, an ally whom I hope will sweep me into better times, and an enemy who makes me move on before I feel I’m ready.

I bolted awake, the grass a moist mattress for my body, the air was still chilled, but the cold didn’t touch me, mist filled the air as the fog crept between houses, but it wasn’t ominous, it was comforting.  I wondered momentarily at the disturbing dream I had and took a moment to figure out where I was.  My face lay against the earth, the cold wet sensation peculiar, I could hear the earth acutely, beneath me earthworms crawled, about fifteen of them that I could hear.  A heartbeat echoed like the beat of a drum, if I focused on it I could feel the strength of that heart echo off the walls of a nearby house.  It took a minute to realize that this heartbeat wasn’t mine… when I tried to find my own I came up empty, it then occurred to me that I hadn’t been breathing, neither had I taken a breath since I stood up.  It then occurred again with just as much shock that I didn’t remember standing up, and even standing I felt absolutely no weight, as though gravity’s hold on me couldn’t have been more fragile.

My body pulsed with unnatural strength, the skin on my arms glowing in the darkness and I wondered at losing several shades of color so quickly.  I pondered who I was, and how I got here, and slowly, everything came back to me, not in whole, but your memories could be described as a handful of sand, and that handful was poured out, the grains that stayed behind amounted to the memories I retained.  I remembered being afraid, and the dark night… and the pain.  There was blood in my mouth, I remembered something about blood in my mouth.  With that thought I stopped, and tasted… but what I tasted bore absolutely no resemblance to the coppery distasteful flavor that had choked me as I blacked out… what I tasted cannot be described in words… as though someone who spent their life tasting the most exquisite wines finally found the perfect flask; for someone with a tooth for chocolate it would be like finding the richest smoothest bar.  The taste I enjoyed was sweet, rich, deep, full and with just enough salt to be satisfying and absolutely mind blowing.

I stood in a park bordered by houses, I could hear distant heartbeats, I took a slow exultant breath, not because I needed to, but to test my new sense of smell that I imagined matched this new taste… I was in no way disappointed.  I could smell myself, sweet as vanilla and rich as gold.  I smelled the grass and the mist, I could smell where a car drove down the road some hundred feet away about half an hour ago.  Then I smelled something to match that taste that still sent my mind spinning.  On the wind I smelled a myriad of flavors, each a different brand of the amazing richness that spun me.  I imagined an old man with a taste for exquisite cigars in a cigar shop where every one was different from the last, and all of them the more amazing then the last.  It was then that I felt the hunger… a desire to taste every flavor that I could smell, a desire to feel just how rich each new flavor could be.

My body had made changes, I didn’t know just how much at the time, my strength multiplied by about twenty, my skin porcelain white but with a strength that rivaled cold stone.  I had acquired a natural odor strong and sweet vanilla, the smell brought a coy smile to my face, and had someone been able to see me, they would have said my eyes glowed twice as blue and bright.  Teeth, always well cared for were a little more straight, where one had been chipped once, it was now whole, where the canines had ground down over the years, they were now sharp as razors and back to their original shape and size.  The curse of the undead, someone that would later come as a surprise is just how the body changes to accept its new nature.  There are plants that evolution has adjusted so that they attract their prey; there are animals that have evolved the same way.  I felt very much as though I had evolved in this way, and as I inhaled again I knew the direction and the flavor of my first quarry.

I’ve written and re-written my halloween special now about a dozen times, with every day that passes by it becomes more bullet point and less flowing descriptions.  Maybe I should give in and post it with bullet points, authors don’t use bullet points enough.

I hope you are all well.

I title this poem: 

Plain White Tee

The mood is formal
The feeling is normal
I wear a shirt that has no theme
I hope that it’s not a dream
If a shirt like this gets it wet
Those who see will not forget

The darkness billowed and flowed about me, from any view outside my own it would have been a torrent of confusion, a cyclone of crisis, but for me it was an exercise in organization.  The darkness simply wasn’t filed, it wasn’t where it needed to be, it didn’t find an escape because no one would show it the way, everyone was far to eager to let this entity control them.  I held still and wondered how it controlled them, I lifted my arm, there was darkness, but it never moved my arm, there was no pressure outside the suffocation of light.  If I stood rashly or bolted forward, it would be my own fault if I bumped into a wall, or crashed over something unseen, the darkness and unknown did not control me… but there I sat listening to those who were controlled by the darkness, who let their lack of understanding make the decisions for them.

In my mind I formed the image of where I thought I was, every touch and feel put texture to the image like crayons put color to a black and white picture.  My fumbling was whispered, none knew of my failures (which could be more accurately labeled discoveries) but myself.  My hands worked through the absence of light, I acted with reason and prudence whispering directions behind me.  Glasses crashed as someone found the kitchen.  The darkness was suffocating, all air was a thought of the past, but I knew the destination.  My hand was on the window, sweat coated my forehead from frustration, chaos raging about me I saw a glimmer of hope as the knob turned under my steady fingertips, I was about to save them all from the darkness, I was about to give the smoke somewhere else to go.

A hand closed on my arm, the familiar voice asked for a moment of my time.  I turned, I sat, his words were broken, his emotions controlled by the darkness, his helplessness plain.  “I have some bad news.” He began, the air pulsed with his fear. “Things are hard right now.”  I sat, I waited. “We have to let you go; there is too much darkness, and the smoke is thick.  We appreciated all you did.”  I stood, with back held straight I walked, the darkness flowed away from my path, the confusion churned behind me, and as the door closed behind me, I focused, I stood, and I walked away.

What’s next, I’m still not sure, I have some excellent references, but I might take a night or two to steady before trying to pin the tail on this particular donkey.  I am open to suggestions.

(I thought this picture was funny, and it’s “about the economy”)

Standing at the brink of darkness my body was open to the attack of some kind of nasty little demon.  I fought it valiantly at first, the fight an obvious no contest as I slung the little green monster back and forth like a flimsy rag doll, his strength was insignificant and since going back to the gym I felt well fit and prepared for the challenge.  The first battle lasted mere moments, the trick or treat’ers never noticed a thing as the monsters were out in force and there’s nothing crazy about a man fighting with a pint sized pain on a night like that.  I chained the beast to the wall and had a wonderful nights sleep despite his whisperings.

The dawn brought life and hope, but the little pest escaped his trappings and came back for more, the fight went through the day, the house doused in darkness I felt the oppression weigh heavily upon me, I escaped for a time of respite, but it didn’t last.  I returned to my home and felt the doom flow from the door, the beast had taken my sanctuary and prepared trap after trap for me, most I dodged without incident, many were only a minor annoyance, and I feel confident that had I trapped him and taken the night for respite he never would have taken me.  The darkness came, I punched the beast till my arms got tired, from the corner of my time the clock struck one, I kept the fight going, distracted by movement in the corner of my eyes the clock struck one again, the fight continued but with a lucky shot that broke past my fatigued defenses he laid me out. 

I spent Sunday in bed sleeping, my throat dry as dust from the attacks, swollen with pain I coughed and wept; Monday came and the demon still had me firmly in his grasp.  I worked from home while looking for an exorcism, in vain hope I talked to a balding man who knew the ways of the body, he told me to rest.  The fight with the beast causing me such pain was not aided by my quest to find someone else; in the end the wise man said go home and regain my strength.  I spent Tuesday again working from home as I rested and tried to swallow past the pain, hoping to flush him out with lots of water.

Now today I stumbled into the office, I did my job and did it well, the beast growing weak feeding on me as I regain my strength, I think his visit will be over soon; I look forward to regaining my strength in full, and next time, the next time such a beast comes to call I will be more ready and will not forget to fight him only during the day when he’s weakest and I’m most rested. 

But for now I just drink a lot of water and hope the feeling of having gargled glass that comes from such a demon goes away quickly.

At night darkness is one of the few constants, and this night was the epitome of a dark night.  The air was heavy with a rain that just wouldn’t come, fog was rolling in, and clouds blocked out the stars, in the distance street lights were suffocating.  I tried a whistle, but after a few bars of song the darkness pulled that bit of cheer into the night as well.  My shoes clumped steadily as I walked towards home, the streets were oddly empty, I felt completely alone, and for once this feeling brought no comfort.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” The voice in my ear was seductive and soft, but with a turn I discovered I was alone.  I walked forward, my pace quickening.  Everything that happened next was instant, but pain has a way of taking time, turning it upside down, and drawing it out in unimaginable ways.

I felt a breath on my right neck, cold like the night mist, I tilted my head to the right, hiding my neck from the cold, and with my left jugular exposed I felt an immediate overwhelming pain.  My body went limp immediately with panic, but that didn’t stop the pain, on the contrary I felt carried away, floating on a cloud of searing white pain that originated at my neck and suffused my entire being.

I heard a gasping, from that center of pain I felt the curve of lips against my skin, never before had I been able to define such details without seeing, but I knew that these lips were full, as they sucked on my neck I felt them gain warmth, like an exposed pipe in winter turns warm when the hot water flows through it, I took some small comfort from the heat, I felt tired and drained… This is how at that moment I expected to die. 

Pain was white hot, liquid inferno that passed through my veins, every inch of my body burned with pain, it felt like my mind was trying to climb out my ears and my heart explode.  I couldn’t understand why such pain hadn’t killed me already, every breath hurt, and I knew with a surety that each breath was my last.  I burned from head to toe, had I wagered a guess I’d have said my fever was well over a hundred and ten, every muscle convulsed against the pain.  Breathing labored I sweat with the unholy death.  Time jellied and each pulse could be measured in hours, I felt each beat of my heart.  I had bitten my tongue, the taste of my blood was metallic and cold, the smell of the air was wet and cold.

My heart beat, like an old car trying to start I felt the blood from that pump wash through me, it burned, it hurt, it was like poison stealing the last ounces of my life.  Another pump and I thought it was the last, slower this time, less forceful, my mind barely captured the moment, the pain was intense but my awareness of my body so acute.  Another pump, this must be the last one, it hurt, my eyes were closed, the pain had reached that special place where it couldn’t get worse, where the thought of death was welcome and I scrambled forward in the recesses of my mind for that white light.  I waited the burning turning to a tingle that numbed my entire being.  A droning that drown out all thought, all noises… did I miss a heartbeat? I waited, I listened… and there it was, the white light at the end of the tunnel my heart’s last beat it felt pouring tar down a funnel, my blood barely budged.  With blood in my mouth, I felt my body grow cold, unresponsive, and without a breath I closed my eyes to die.

It was under this bombardment of smells that I spent my day, and then stepping from the building at the end of the day the fresh smell of leaves, grass, a lit fireplace in the distance, and clean air.

In an instant I was free from work, it is amusing to consider how a smell effects your day and where smells can send you to.