Tagged: poet

Monotony – A Story – Part 10

“That’s a nice little combination you have there”, she impishly suggested as she scanned the contents laid out neatly on the register. Well, seeing that there were only two contents sitting there, they weren’t that damn hard to miss. There they were, my now glaringly odd looking purchases, standing out like two sore thumbs that had been crushed disastrously by an errant hammer; like two criminals that just got busted red handed, and now had the cop’s bright ass flashlight beamed directly in their faces. Just like boom, flooded with blinding spotlight, right there. Bullets and sleeping pills. At least she smiled when she said it. “Yeah”, I managed to stammer out as I was jarred back into reality by the warm, sticky sweetness of her voice. I was subtly elated at the fact that she spoke to me, and the gentleness in her tone just lulled me right in like an invited guest. Well, elated and surprised and highly caught off guard was the truth of it. But I couldn’t just stop at a mere “Yeah”. So when I recovered from the initial shock, I attempted to elaborate on the source of my curious shopping. “Looks a bit weird, doesn’t it?”, I joked, with a nice little laugh to try to smooth out the proceedings. “I wouldn’t say weird”, she went on, “now questionable? That’s the word that I’d use”, she stated with a pleasant smile….one that I seriously could not stop looking at.        

5-9-16

“Once more unto the breach,dear friends, once more”-

legendary words that

Shakespeare so eloquently

envisioned as English King Henry V 

gallantly spurred

his loyal and depleted few to victory over the 

numerically superior French forces,

a powerful army that was overwhelmingly

predicted to crush Henry and his 

men-

“Once more unto the breach”, 

he cried when defeat seemed certain,

and under the unwavering bravery of

those rallying words,

his troops sallied forth courageously into 

the swell of the enemy, and vanquished them

from the field wholly and victoriously.

Shakespeare at his finest…

history at its most endearing.

Once more unto the breach,

we should remind ourselves as we

venture out into the swell of  

life’s intangibles,

against its unknown numbers,

innumerable odds

and challenges that, on paper,

would annihilate us-

once more unto the breach,

as we throw our hats gallantly into the 

mix and swim out against the current

for another shot, another chance, and

another opportunity,

despite the odds,

despite the challenges,

eager to face its unknown numbers,

and eager to cry out ferociously into the

face of opposition-

ready to march forward once more,

ferociously brave in pursuit of any and

every dream that we could possibly

conceive. 

Defeat sometimes seems certain..

victory often seems dim,

until we remember that one more

charge into the fray may mean the

difference between failure and success,

the beginning and the end

if we’re willing to rally forward into the

surge of the current, no matter the odds,

and claim what lands we choose to

conquer.

Shakespeare at his finest,

history at its most triumphant,

bravery at its most resounding*

 

-G. Boston  
 

5-6-16

There is a mythical beast
that dominates our lives
and takes center stage-
it forces us to expend great energy
planning our attack, preparing our approach,
and hoping for a swift and decisive victory.
We catch its scent, we plot its course,
and then we set our sights on it until
the moment comes to make the kill.
And so when Friday finally emerges,
we bag our kill and we
are instantly glad, and we are
wonderfully happy.
Friday has taken the guise of a mythical beast.

Smiles that didn’t exist twenty four
hours before it seem to paint the
landscape in bright ivory.
Frowns give way to teeth that hadn’t
been visible all week, teeth that
are now flashed in blinding laughter and grins
everywhere.
We have surrendered the gloom
to the illuminous power of The Friday.
The clouds have parted.
TGIF.
Happy Friday.
Friday is a beast that we have
come to depend on,
so much so that we scurry through
all the other days just to reach it.
We have become slaves to the grind.
We clamber about, rushing and breezing
through its lesser loved brethren,
wishing and hoping that Friday will
come soon and now, to rescue us from
whatever it is that we are running from.
And then what? It’s over before it began,
and then we don our hunting gear
once more.
In the meantime, life is lived in the
blink of an eye,
light years faster than it should,
with so much of it centered on a single
mad dash toward one simple day.
In between, it seems that life itself
is buried under work, stress, and
the mountains of dust kicked up by the mad
dash.
Friday has become our savior, but
we have to remember that there is life
between Friday and Friday.
Enjoy the middle.

No one makes a sandwich with just 2
pieces of bread.
Enjoy the middle…there are too many
flavors to taste.

-G.Boston