As the TV faintly drones on in the background,

I lean against your shoulder

Pressing my weight against you,

I snuggle closer

Your familiar pine scent envelops me

And gradually, I slip into a light sleep

I want to stay this way forever

You and me,

me and you.

There never was one without the other.

You were the sun to my dark world,

the nightlight below my window,

but all along you were just like the moon, only

reflecting others light.

All along,

I thought I was the only one,

the one planet to your one sun.

But you were the moon, surrounded by stars,

and all the planets orbited around you.

You couldn’t resist their gravity,

even though it was supposed to be you and me,

Now my world is dark,

but at least so is yours.

You said you’d never leave me,

now I’m beginning to see

You’ll stay as long as you want

till I crack and let you in

and then you’ll be gone again.

Why do I keep falling for you and your facade of sunlight?

I wish and I try to forget with all of my might.

But every time I close my eyes,

I feel you from all sides.

Appearances can be decieving,

you should know that most of all,

so when you see my smile,

remember that it’s only on the outside.

And on the inside I want to strangle you,

stab you over and over,

shoot you

beat you

hurt you.

But most of all,

I want to love you,

and have you love me back.

What is it I have to do

to prove my worth to you?

There has to be more to love

than a cat and a mouse,

maybe a kid and a nice house?

But if there I sure as hell

haven’t found it yet.

The next time you see me why don’t you

apoligize?

Is that such a hard thing to do?

It sure as hell would be a surprise

for me, but

not all surprises are bad.

So, old friend, I hope you know,

I’m giving up, I’m letting go.

You are no longer the sun I loved,

you’re just another planet,

giving in to the sun of greed.

Everywhere around us, we see a happy face,

It matters not the time, it matters not the place.

They’re friends and co-workers, strangers and lovers,

They’re even relatives too,

Yet something isn’t right, something, I think, you knew.

We ask them how their day was, we ask them if they’re fine,

They tell us it’s all right, they feed us lines, they lyin’.

Their words we believe, their smiles we trust,

We think that they’re alright.

We never dare to look inside, or see their hidden plight.

Pain, turmoil, despair and doubt, yet never with a frown,

We’d pick them up and comfort them, if they told us they were down.

But pride is funny, we can’t share pain,

But keep it locked in tight.

Hold it close, never tell, surely it will be alright.

We tell ourselves these lies, allow these deceptions plain,

And everyday present a face; our happiness we feign.

We trick ourselves, we believe the lies,

All around us must be joy.

Yet with our own happiness, why do we destroy?

This author is not special, it’s normalcy he’ll feign,

He’s always asked “how are you?” and responds with “I can’t complain.”

Yet truth is never easy, to tell or to discern,

And outright lies are dangerous, telling them he’ll spurn.

The face that he wears, like any girl or boy,

Is meant to put you at ease, another deceptive ploy.

The truth, he’ll say, to anyone who’ll hear,

Is that unlike those around him, emotions he doesn’t fear.

They’re nothing, they’re easy, something to be controlled,

“Suppress your anger, fear, sadness, or your woe is already foretold.”

But surely you, the smart reader, attention you have paid,

And know that everything he’s said, are lies that he just made.

So why, you ask, why do we lie,

When all around, the people we know, would help or at least try?

Shouldn’t we share, reveal the lies,

Tell it to them true?

Allow these people surrounding us to help us make it through?

Good luck, I say, coaxing out what’s inside.

Finding truth, any truth, requires endurance through the fog

Careful observation, considered contemplation, a surgeon’s deft touch.

To find truth outside yourself, in grand irony,

Requires one to become a master of deception.

In this moment you can't hear the cries

As Tibet fades and ethnically and culturally dies

At the hands of the Chinese Government

Who's actions are hell bent on seeing Tibet come to an end

The fear Buddhism and the Dalai Lama

Simply because they don't understand

And in that ignorance and fear they won't let it flourish

So I shed do many tears

For these good people suffering under Han oppression

Their voices and culture and and independance

China is brutally suppressing

So stand up for Tibet

And ring out a message loud

This treatment of Tibet must not be allowed

Silently Tibet is being cleansed

And this must now come to an end

So help stop this attrocity my friends

And proclaim that China give Tibet back its freedom.

In a world so harsh

Where demons prey

In dark shadows

And alleyways

Of this city illuminated

By garish neon lights

No one dare walk

These streets at night.

Fear and forboding

Was to be felt everywhere

As if people somehow

Had forgotten how to care

But then in the dark dank

Unforgiving streets standing there

A bright shining image

Appeared among the glare

Through the pouring rain

And the steam rising from

The street vents stood an angel

In all her divine glory

Dressed in shining gold robes

With amour undereath

Which to me foretold

The time for battle was finally here

An angel vistingvisiting to banish

The demons and their fear

You could here the demons cries

As they sensed here pur essence

As she strodestride down streets

Casting light as demons became evernescent

She washed the dark streets and shadows

With her luminescent golden warm light

From the rod she held in her hand on the right

And in the left she cast out waves of healing

She uplifted everyday peoplespeople's feelings

And gave them light, hopes and dreams

And turned these streets in this metropolis

Into a place so renewed

And as she did fear abated and positivity grew

And caring and sharing soon ensued

As the seething demon brood

Were sent back to their denizens of hell

With an agonising scream and yell

The angel before fading from sight

Spoke quietly yet it transposed in everyone's mind

'I have come and cast away the blight

Now in return you must learn to live life right

Be compassionate and tollerant

Be good of heart and soul in every instant

I have given back your reasons to hope and dream

It's now down to you to now to reflect lights beam

Into every corner and aspect of life

To ensure you all live worthy lives lived right'

She set this challenge then faded away

Now it's up to us to live in a better way.

The Story of the Map

(As told by Aaron Torres)

“This map once belonged to the great Fernando Buchante, a world-renowned explorer. He sailed the seas, collected treasure, and enchanted women. On one of his quests, he discovered a treasure too great and too powerful for anyone to possess. Believing he had no other options, he hid the treasure in a place no one would be ever able to find it.

“No one except the owner of this map, which he painstakingly drew the night before he sailed back Spain. The map details the location of the treasure, but even that isn’t enough, for Fernando had set up trials and puzzles along the trail. Only the true of heart can pass and reach the treasure.

“Still, Fernando was afraid that the treasure would fall into the wrong hands, and so he carefully protected the map until he knew who to pass it on to. Years and years went by, and Fernando became old and obsessive. He told anyone who came within earshot about the treasure, claiming he needed them to find it, needed them to get it for him, for he had become too frail to retrieve it for himself.

“At that point, no one believed him, and everyone wrote off his ramblings as the musings of a madman. But his youngest grandson, still enticed with the ideas of adventure and treasure, accepted the map from his frenzied Abuelo. Since that day, the boy’s family has been handing down the map, generation after generation, knowing that one day a young descendant of the Buchante line will finally stand up to the challenge and accept the treasure.”

After much enthusiastic gesticulating, Aaron finally put his hands down, looking to Rosie for her response.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Let me guess. The young, handsome fellow that will finally find the lost treasure is you?”

He laughed, even though she stared at him blank-faced. “I didn’t say handsome,” he said.

“Well you should have, because every part of that story was romanticized.” She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Did you say ‘only the true of heart can pass?’”

Her hair had fallen in front of her face, so she didn’t see him make a face at her in annoyance. “It’s true,” he said defensively. “I mean, no one thinks it’s real, but I think it’s worth a shot. What have you got to lose?”

Rosie shifted and looked at him with her dark brown eyes. “Nothing, I guess.”

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous:https://theprose.com/post/244351/map-part-ii

Next: https://theprose.com/post/245602/map-part-iv

Once again, I have been called out and called upon.

I, for one, was perfectly content in reading the works of prose writers in solitude and currently opted for a diminished publishing schedule. I should have known better.

For those who are interested, I have encountered a peculiar sort who does not respect my wishes for solitude. He blames me for his woes and connects me to the actions of others (if you have never met Bill Maher, you must also be a troll). I am only a single person without intersection in his life. Yes, I have teased him for his transgressions, never mentioning him by name and never using other Prose members to make contact with him on my behalf (I have a funny habit of keeping records when he does these things to me). While it does please me to find him in an annoyed state, I do sense a cry for help in his latest rant.

I believe he needs help. He requires the desperate medical attention only a trained professional might offer. I hope he finds this type of assistance soon.

However, until then,

If you see him, please give him a hug.

Keep him warm.

Tell him what he needs to hear most.

Reassure him that someone, somewhere, may actually care about his ideas, may actually agree with him, and may actually take him seriously.

Until then, he may require a new box of tissues or a fresh diaper.

Who knows? There may even be a new comic book he enjoys more than his old pacifier.

Thanks and Thank you (I’ve heard both are now micro-aggressions),

Your friendly neighborhood Null-Set Annoyer,

Andy Betz

PS: If I wanted to be known as the guy who rated movies, I would concentrate on rating some movies.

When I was growing up, my family was poor. There were a lot of kids, my dad was going back to college and trying to work full time.

There was a time where I didn’t even see my dad for several days because he’d be working so late, trying to work enough hours to make ends meet.

I never thought of us as poor, to be honest. God always provided for us. In fact, I remember one particular instance when my mom prayed for fruits and vegetables because she felt like a terrible mother because we couldn’t afford any.

That very same day, somebody from our church, somebody who didn’t know how bad off we were, brought us a huge crate (maybe even two, I don’t remember, but it was a lot) of green beans. Our neighbors’ ancient apple trees produced more fruit than they did the entire eleven years I lived there. Same with the pear tree up the street.

We kids didn’t have electronics, either--no tablets, just a school laptop for learning Spanish and an outdated PC. No wifi, though that was my parents’ choice. After all, you have to be careful with kids and the internet.

I’m not complaining--in fact, I’m grateful for the way my childhood went. My siblings and I spent every afternoon, even the entire day if it was summer, outside in the woods. Hunting, building forts, riding bikes, playing hide-and-go-seek, walking on stilts, climbing trees, airsoft wars, throwing mud clods at each other ... we were never bored.

Things weren’t always that financially tight. There were always certainly people who had it worse than we did. Every Christmas, our parents would tell us that Christmas was “going to be small this year.” But every Christmas morning, the living room seemed to be filled with gifts. Or, at least, that’s what it always seemed like to me.

Things got steadily better, as they usually do.

Stuff happened, like growing up--siblings going to college, moving ...

When I was older, I started to realize that we were different from other kids. The problems we’d faced when we were younger had taught us how to handle not getting everything we wanted. We had a good work ethic, thanks to our dad, and the fact that if something needed to be done or fixed, we did it ourselves. We were healthier than most and in love with the outdoors. None of us cared about fitting in or being cool. Without having social media to tell us constantly how we should look, think, or talk, we were confident in who we were. If we believed something, we weren’t changing because other people didn’t like our opinions and told us to believe otherwise. We didn’t watch TV, either, just movies or older series on DVDs like westerns, war films, Tom and Jerry, Hogan’s Heroes, etc. (Cable cost money, folks, and it’s not really necessary.)My brothers were amazing marksmen (and handsome, too, but that doesn’t really have much to do with anything.) We were adaptable and more closely knit than a lot of people just because of everything we’d been through. Though, as we grow up and start following our dreams, we’re not as close as we used to be.

A lot of people say that my siblings and I are very mature for our ages. I’ve also been told that we’re some of the msot driven people they know. I strongly believe this is due to the fact that if we wanted something, we had to work for it. Without entertainment at our fingertips like it is now, we had to find ways to occupy ourselves, whether it was learning something new or perfecting a skill we already had.

I can’t look back on all the ways food was provided and bills paid--my dad even got a scholarship on the very same night he was deciding he was going to quit college because he couldn’t afford it--and not believe in God. Not believe that He loves and takes care of His children.

I do not say anything of what I said in anyway to boast or brag or anything like. Certainly not to make myself seem better than anyone else. I’m just saying that I wouldn’t be the same person I am now if it wasn’t for everything that happened. Hardships don’t make sense when they’re happening, and they certainly aren’t enjoyable. It’s only when we’re done that we can look back, and be like, “I’m really glad that happened.”

Mom, Dad, I know you always felt like you were doing an inadequate job providing for us and that you felt guilty you couldn’t give us everything we ever wanted. But if I could do my childhood all over again, I certainly wouldn’t change anything.

I’ve got a lot of my life still to go, but I feel very well-equipped with all the lessons life has already taught me.

I write this for a contest

That for fourteen years will progress.

By the time the winner wins,

Three dollars will be worth less.

----------------------------------------------------

But like seriously, how many people that entered didn't know the contest ended in fourteen years?

I watch during the night.

I watch during the day.

I absorb what I see,

Before it slips away.

I wear a disguise,

So as not to disturb,

For it wouldn't be wise

To make someone perturbed.

I need them in comfort.

In their peace of mind.

The best kinds of life

Are those unrefined.

I watch and I learn,

Take notes of mistakes.

They never discern.

Their silly hearts break.

And by watching them fail,

I learn to be perfect.

From writing to rhyming,

All my words are corect.