you are stronger than you think

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

photo by Jills at pixabay



you are stronger than you think


your life is a plant of dry yellow leaves
an apartment chock-ful of hoarded junk
of boxed lunches canned drinks
it will slam you, kick you
arm-locks you to sobbing
utter total surrender
it don't take much
a little switch
a little straw
of dry powder
it drags you
like a beast
into a cave
but know it
you can beat it
take that smile
off death's face.
you are stronger than you think
ask what your gods can offer
grow wings
grow claws
light a fire
draw a line
and
watch
the beast slouches back to its cave.


26/04/2021
**********

---

A Perfect Circle - Eat The Elephant

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2021

Sense

This is just fiction. Thank goodness.

photo by Hebi B at pixabay



Sense


They were sitting on a bench in the park, under the shade of old trees, from the mid-afternoon sun, watching a glassy pond. Just two hours ago, they were total strangers in a cafe in another part of the city. He was a writer, trying to find some inspiration, minding his own business. She was there having a coffee, alone. He had noticed her earlier, because she seemed agitated. Then she started to undress. First her blouse, then her brassiere. Before more could be removed, he acted, wrapping his jacket over her.

“I really don’t know what happened back there”, she said, “I felt so hopeless”

“Yours is not the only bizarre happening this week. A man jumped off a bridge, shouting the end is near. A disabled guy held up a store. A surge of crazy stuff in the news”, he said.

“What are you afraid of?” she suddenly asked.

“The loss of my faculties”, he replied.

“I am afraid of fire. Dying by fire. I am really scared”, she volunteered. “I have told my boss I am staying with my sister down at Reno for a few days.”

“Ah, I am planning a road trip up north, away from this sin city for a while. Recharge, maybe.”
Then they hugged, promised to keep in touch, and left their separate ways.


It was almost night when the squat truck pulled into a carpark in the middle of town. The driver was instructed to park the truck at a particular spot, press a button on a little box and leave the town. Easiest big money in years, he thought. In the back of the truck was a big vending machine, securely fastened. In the vending machine was a crude but working nuclear bomb.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he took out the metal box and put a greasy finger to the button.



01/05/2019
**********


313 words. Exactly. I would like to develop on the characters and the earlier events but that would mean exceeding the word limit. Maybe I will work on the expansion later. :)

---

Pink Floyd - Two Suns in the Sunset

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019

-O-

Have you every worked late, and alone, in a large office? Late like, 3 a.m.?

photo by dsnake1



-O-




the fear
slices
razor on skin

the mouth dry
about to
-O-pen

beware the whine
in the
air ducts

it is
whispering
ancient stories

the glare
of monitor screens
a vicious leer

you keep thinking
of pale
pallid faces

is that a strand
of hair brushing
your face?

if you just
turn your head
and you would not

because

the dark shadows
in your heart

becomes

a blur a shape in the corner

the room

the eye
the eyes
their EYEs!

piercing

more so

in the coldness.



01/06/2014
**********

---

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted.”

-- Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems


Shared on Poetry Pantry #299 at Poets United.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2016

the ceiling boards are uneven

Nobody likes hospitals.

photo by Alvimann
image from morguefile.com



the ceiling boards are uneven



they wheel you outside
to the operating theatre
lined up in the corridor
like so much cattle
to be slaughtered.

time seems like a
useless commodity. you wait
looking at the rain trees
outside the windows and started
counting the crows

a pretty nurse comes
and peeks under your sheets
ah the urine bag is done
she winks and pulls open
the curtains again.

who wants to be in a hospital
if the doctor hadn't said you're
damn lucky to be still alive?
we do have guardian angels,
remember, they love us.

more masked nurses come
talking like sad songs
the ceiling lights streak past
as they push you in
the wheels nary a sound.

and for a long time since
you call for the bodhisattva's name.



03/10/2015
**********

---

remember
there are sad songs
you should choose better


*


from “Plastic Sonnet 17” by Caroline Crew



I was inspired by the lines from the above poem (and a recent stay in a hospital). This is a prompt from the Bibliomancy Oracle. It can work in painful ways.

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2015

O

This is a response to Verse First's prompt at Poet's United. The theme was "Ghosts & Spirits & Scares". Stuff I like to write about. I know this is almost a week after the prompt, but I am all chained up by work.

Oh yes, 31 words in the poem only.

image by dsnake1, done with Sketchpad



O



in a darkened room
look into a mirror
at midnight,
       be afraid
       what is inside
       the glass
in the
reflection
         there is
         besides..

and the scream,
which is
not your own.


05/11/2013
**********

---

Boo!

Boo who?

Oi! why you crying?

---

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2013