If I Could Fly Away

FLIGHTS OF FANCY

Trains of Thought

The Great Escape- Intensive Journal Writing

If I could fly away right now, what would I be leaving behind?

Chuncks of concrete

rusted metal

gunhumpers, silly boys who don’t wear socks, women who pull their hair back into greasy ponytails, drunken whores and delusional lovers

came

crashing down on streets named after trees that don’t grow here anymore.

Home is where Netflix lives.

 

Murica, Feel The Bern, I don’t see color I see the person

I am fair and honest and true.

Is my phone charged? Does it need to be fed?

Home is where Instagram says it is.

 

Chunks of concrete, rusted metal

crashed to Earth

with a thud

held together by

a sticky web of  silly boys who don’t wear socks,  girls with greasy hair tied back into a ponytails, the drunken whores the  deluded lovers,

the Berners, the Humpers, the starving phones

blended and forced into  embraces by each other

they are

poisoned rain falling from a flat and listless sky

feeding the corpse of a dead world.

Without A Map

Trains of Thought

The Great Escape – Intensive Journal Writing

I keep losing my way,

it runs off without me

and I can’t keep up

because

my way

is

angry, vicious, blind in one eye

but somehow it manages to

shake me, lose me, elude me

when I need it the most.

My way is lost but it doesn’t care

I do.

I’m sorry I have lost my way.

The Writer that Almost Wasn’t

Trains of Thought
The Great Escape – Intensive Journal Writing

Weighing Words

 

Franz Von Stuck

 

My eighth grade English teacher

used to give every single one of my papers a D-.

 

That was as close as he could get to failing every thing I handed in- he couldn’t do that with tests if I got the answers correct, but I lost points on those papers too because my A’s looked like O’s and my I’s looked like L’s.

You get the picture.

So my essays and themes and short stories didn’t get failed because I at least handed something in and turned up for class everyday, he told me.

He also did try to get me into remedial English classes, but the only thing that kept him from doing that was that I tested at College level for reading comprehension. He was convinced I had cheated and I had to retake the tests again with two monitors watching me the entire time.

 

So I got a D on my final report card and on the last day of school  he made fun of my essay in front of the other class by reading it out loud with the words butchered because he pronounced the words with the a’s and o’s and l’s and t’s with the letters that he thought he saw.

Did anyone laugh? Not really and did I get upset? No. Because the paper he was making fun of had just won me tickets to see the Seattle Sonics play a game and he knew it.

 

A few years after I graduated from high school I heard my former English teacher’s son had died in mountain climbing accident.

I tried to feel sorry for my teacher  because it was the right thing to do, but you have guessed correctly if you assumed I could careless about the pain and loss he felt.

Our words and how we use them come with a price and a cost and that’s why we should choose, very carefully how we use them- as an English teacher he should have knows that better then anyone.

amm

Masks

Trains of Thought
The Great Escape – Intensive Journal Writing

Cabinet of Curiosities

( Work inspired by my photos and personal mementos )

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I want a new face

a new heart

a new pair of eyes

and a new tongue-

a sharper tongue, a more clever tongue

then the one I have in my head.

I want a new mask

or maybe three

Maybe one of them will tell me

who I am supposed to be.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The Duck Pond

This was inspired by a Writing Prompt where you pick three spooky words and write a poem or story based on the words.

I chose Banshee, Corrupted and Creep.

 

Banshee blood

corrupted, cursed and revolting

it’s pooling in a pond where I used to feed  the ducks.

 

Who will cage it?

will anyone  swim in it?

Who will watch it creep towards the shore?

Will anybody grab a bucket, sponge scream out in fear

more likely then not

everyone will  pretend as if it’s not there.

 

Banshee blood

corrupt,  cursed and revolting

I wonder if the Ducks that I used to feed

wished it wasn’t there.

 

The Blessing

From The Danse Macabre Prompt: Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders

We meet another of The Prince’s guests:

I had found a place to get off of my feet

maybe catch a quick bite

and chew the fat with the locals

 who call this  town I wandered into home.

But before I could settle in and settle down for a spell

at the Diner called ” Lorna’s “

the Sheriff walked in and put a bullet between my eyes.

Good thing it wasn’t silver.

Good thing indeed.

I Want To Dance Like Salome

Inspired By The Bancroft Prompt: Fantasy Destinations :

You could spend the night in this painting, courtesy of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts or perhaps you could be lucky enough to be selected to stay with Mona Lisa at the Louvre.

Franz von Stuck (1863–1928), Teasing (1889)

If I could choose a painting to  spend one day, one hour, or even a very long night inside of, I would choose a painting by Franz Von Stuck.

Why?

Because they are full of monsters  and  unhinged desire-in his works  passion, fear and beauty are mashed up and then it all  goes right off the rails.

If I had the chance to know what’s it’s like to be let off of my chain and run.

I would.

It’s a dream of mine to have the nerve to do that.

Salome by Franz Von Stuck

In planning my Von Stuck inspired Destination Trip  even a trip to Hell is not out of the question.

I am captivated by the story  the ” Inferno” tells because in this painting there are faces and bodies occupying ever square inch- even the flames seems to reflect the images of the damned.

Still, each figure is alone in it’s own way and oblivious to what is around them.

At least that I what I think and I am curious enough to ask them if that’s the case.

But that is Hell isn’t it? Feeling alone in an ocean of souls.

Inferno by Franz Von Stuck

The worlds that Von Stuck created in his portraits have a sense of danger, adventure and humor- there is a lot of smiling going on in his works.

They’re wolfish smiles.

But does that matter?

Not to me, not if I’m planning my Fantasy Destination.

In fact, I would prefer to meet a wolf or two along the way.

Dissonance by Franz Von Stuck

Info On Paintings:

Salome

Teasing

Inferno