Orange, Pink, and Green
a bracelet of threads circles my wrist
- orange, pink, and green -
that's who you are to me
declares the girl who makes me seen
without missing a beat, i proclaim
- purple, pink, and green -
that's who you are to me
not knowing only a best friend could be so keen
i try this game later, this time with another
- blue, yellow, and green -
thats who you are to me
they ask, what does that mean?
i look at the bracelet given to me
smiling, i realize
this is why she and i will always be
the best friends who see
Inside Out
And sometimes
only paper will listen to you.
Words flowing freely
to convey
what I cannot say.
The pen,
sensing the feelings I just can’t part with.
Though I find,
I am never alone when in thought.
And with this magical hand,
creativity swims fluently where I find myself mute
and unable to fashion the right words.
And sometimes
only paper will listen to you.
My Color Monster
The monster under my bed has changed colors many times during my life. Each stage of living has brought with it growth and experience, and as a result, my monster has worn many coats and appeared in many forms.
When I was young, it was black, and its name was SOLITUDE. It lurked in the shadows and threatened to take away my parents. They were my world, and the thought that I might lose them gave my monster teeth. It knew how to bare them too, and it made me hide under the covers.
As I grew, it became the brown of mud and dirt, and its name was HUMILIATION. It knew I was smaller than the other kids, and scared of many of them. It loved to see me get pushed down to its level where it leered at me, laying prone and helpless, laughing along with the other kids.
In my teenage years it became red, and its name was LUST. It was mysterious and held out the promise of delights unseen and pleasures unimagined. It found joy in my rejection, and teased me mercilessly because I could do so little about it.
As a young man, it turned green, and changed its name to JEALOUSY. It lurked in public places, and taunted me in the leers of those who wanted my partner. Reflected in their eyes, it whispered in my ear that she wanted them as well.
In middle age, it was yellow, and went by PRIDE. It threatened at every turn to destroy everything I worked for, and more than once turned me away from the path that would have brought me rewards untold.
Eventually, it turned blue. It grew long fingers that reached all the way back in time, and its name was REGRET. It made me hate many parts of myself, and waste precious moments wishing things had been different, laughing the whole time at the futility it generated.
Finally, I learned to see it for what it was. It had no true color, but was made up of the worst ideas and habits that I possessed the entire time. It was a reflection, and it’s true name had always been FEAR. It had stood in my way and caused me to veer off course many, many times.
Once I knew its name, I faced it head on. I realized I had allies against the monster. I drew on the shield of FAITH, the sword of TRUTH, and the armor of TRUE LOVE. Thus prepared I slayed the monster, and as it exploded in a cascade of shining white light, I glimpsed the face of God behind it, telling me I had done well.
So, what color is your monster?
-----------------------—
© 2023 - dustygrein
(This is an updated reposting of a challenge entry from earlier this year, to describe the monster under the bed.)
NOTE:
Dear Prose Family,
I haven't seen some of you on the tag list I posted below in a long time, but I would like to see how many of you are still actively doing your thing. Please drop me a smiley face, or a p/m to let me know you are here
- Dusty
To Walk Among the Pigs
Whenever I feel
Disgusted by the man
I have allowed
Myself to become
I visit my local Walmart
And remember better days
Long gone behind me
While sucking my gut in
I strut the aisles
Like a modern day
Adonis with a 180 IQ
Yessiree bub!
That's what I do
When the mirror
Spits blood
And I feel
Like a cockroach
Covered in dogshit
David Burdett
1/31/2023
PSS
Vinny lit up a Marlboro Red as he stepped on the gas. ”The potholes in this city could take out a goddamn school bus.” We were heading to meet Scarpa at The Joint. He was the only guy the bosses could trust with a job like this. I watched the Spanish moss speed by and held my breath past the cemeteries. “Ever since uncle Joe found Christ, he stopped fucking his wife Bonnie. Now she’s calling me all the time bitching. Like I’m supposed to fix it, or something?” Vinnie had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, and every time the Lincoln hit a bump, the body in the trunk would let out a deep guttural groan. “And Bettie keeps all that jewelry from the heist laid out on their kitchen table like it’s a fucking flea market or something. Joe tells her to hide it, but she don’t never listen.”
All of the houses we passed were different shades of color, blue, purple, pink, yellow. The streets began to narrow. Tommy put his hand on my knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We’re almost there, kid.”
Choked
I was sitting across
From some scumbag
Piece of shit on the bus
Who thought it was cool
To tell me about
How he liked getting girls
Not old enough to drink
High and fucking them
As the bus driver
A sturdy black man
Who looked like he could rip
A telephone book in half
With his bare hands
Waited for my signal
To attack and leave
Covered in blood
The enemy
Our silent agreement.
But instead
I choked
And exited
Covered in slime
And another man’s
Disappointment
David Burdett
4/25/21
People Standing Still
I pulled up to Rampart with my uncle’s mob buddies, their fat fingers and thin ties laughing behind the wheel. “You think this little gnat is funny to the boss? They ain’t, and we all know this will not end well.” I twist the ring on my Saturn finger and ask, “Whose bones are in the basement?“ Tommy gives me a sly wink as he shuts the trunk to the Lincoln. ”Real people are dying everyday, every damn day, but you keep letting that tongue wag.” I look at him and shrug. ”Don’t throw them in the lake just yet.”
Tommy takes a long glance at a strange liquid that begins to soak through the floorboard. “They have a losing hand, they just don’t know it yet.“ I grab the cuff of his jacket and wipe away a tiny piece of brain fragment. “Let’s go, It’s starting to stink.“