time is vanishing
must awake from lethargy
running out of dawns

walking

well traveled is the trail

many have reached the end

some with tales inspiring courage

others stumbled along

many seemingly without a peep

adversities they all faced

perseverance was needed

uncomplaining they wait

we walk the trail alone

our companions are many

at the same pace we travel

at the same spot we all are

some have already arrived

they may not see the conclusion

but their place is assured

unknown friends

i walk unsteadily on the trail

following footsteps left by others

some had long strides

its hard to to stretch that far

am i walking fast enough

some had large feet

mine hardly fill their heel

they can still grow

will i let them

looking at the trail behind

my path hasn't been very straight

often running along the edge

sometimes fading

my print is getting deeper

i must be getting heavier

my path still wobbles

i didn't turn to salt

the forest is full of trails
none wider then a footstep
through marsh, thicket and meadow
down valleys
across mountains
under towering trees
intersecting many times
at brooks, creeks and, streams
the further you go the clearer they become

i want to walk them all
why can't i start one

heading

east or west which one
both head into the future
stop hesitating

they're always there

like darkness in winter

baiting me

feeding off my need for self

entwining with every earnest inclination

corrupting

i counter their reasoning

'there will be time for that after'

deftly they retort

'your strong enough'

'you could handle it'

foregoing words i brandish my fist

beating them back

they retreat but are not vanquished

biding their time

a moment of indecision

they spring forth

with cajoling words they speak

'there's nothing wrong with your way'

'HE knows your heart, that's all that matters'

do i?

always a mystery it has been to me

something to be controlled

beaten down

never allowed to grow

untrusted

disregarded

misunderstood

ignored

what does it want?

i begin to listen

silence

nothing

a whisper

too soft

You know who you are.

I wish I was this subtle:

Stolen from xkcd.

My postal code has this envious distinction.

Recently (by which I mean today), I was wondering what caused me to start posting things here. I originally created my Agrican account so I could anonymously submit various things I had written to a critiquing site. I discovered that you could write the most useless drivel and people would still say that they liked it. Despite the aforementioned site's drawbacks I began to notice when I committed my actual fictionalized thoughts to a written format, I received much more in depth feedback then when I wrote something completely fictional.

In a roundabout way I one day came across a blog started by a friend of mine and through that and the various other wonders of the interweb, happened upon the blogs of several other people I knew, had met, heard of, seen once at a party/assembly/meeting. Guiltily I began to read them, and learned things about these people that I did not know, and never even suspected.

Eventually I read a post that I really wanted to comment on. I could have checked the box that would have let me submit my comment anonymously but decided instead to use my pseudonym. I liked the idea that while anonymous I would still have an identity, regardless of the fact there was nothing for anyone to colour it in with.

One of her posts was the result of one of those annoying (at least I find them annoying) internet games that seem to appear from time to time and make the rounds eventually winding up in everyone's in inbox after being forwarded for the 42ndth time. I had already done the quiz and feeling a little devious I decided to share my own results.

Somehow this innocuous action led me to begin to post other items. I wasn't really expecting anyone to read them, just liked the idea of someone I knew maybe seeing them. Almost immediately I started getting emails from people who I knew well or hardly at all demanding to know who I was or asking "is this you _______?" This has affected me to such an extent that I scrutinize each post to make sure that there is nothing that can point back to me. Even in my day to day conversations with people that I know or suspect may have read something I wrote I watch what I'm saying, careful not to state anything that could possibly link me to a comment I made on another blog or wrote on this one. I will even keep silent on entire topics or subjects that I feel passionately about out of fear that someone might somehow link it back to me.

I have become obsessed with maintaining my anonymity, not because I enjoy it but because I don't want to be judged on my attempts at creativity. This is ludicrous I know. In every other aspect of my life I am the epitome of confidence, if I want to do something I just do it yet to this I cannot commit.

adrift

solitary my path

accidental the direction

satisfied was i with life

unforeseen was the change

never considered were the possibilities

heartache the culmination 

now the sun fools me

filling my heart with mirth

brief is the day

dusk is my undoing

closing my eyes i can't avoid

with former things i am no longer content

life

shuffle, shuffle, stub, hop, hop, limp, trudge, trudge, stumble, stamp, stamp, stamp, falter, d r i f t, stomp, stomp, turn, turn, stomp, turn, rove, ramble, m e a n d e r, plod, plod, plod, pause, turn, hesitate, step, step, jog, jog, run, vault, 

 f  a  l  l, stop, stir, step, balk, step, waver, scuffle, scuffle, step, stride, stride, stride, trip, stall, stump, stomp, stamp, stomp, stump, slog, toil, labor, plod, plod, lumber, trudge, step, step, step, step, step, skip, step, skip, romp, dance, leap

newspeak

its here and its ungood

bête noire

Walking down the street I see his face in the leaves of a tree or the cracks in the sidewalk. He doesn't says anything anymore, just smiles. His grin is worse then the Cheshire Cat's. I swat at the leaves, kick at the walkway, but that smirk always remains. It floats off into my peripheral vision. Becomes a dull little smudge at the edge of my eye that I can never get rid of no matter how furiously I blink.

Passersby pretend they don't notice me battling and cursing my invisible foe.  Self conscious I hurry home, grabbing a discarded copy of ffwd to hide behind.  Stumbling along behind my shield I watch in disbelief as the crossword rearranges itself into his toothy grin.

Fumbling with the keys I open my door scurry inside and slam it behind me bolting the lock and fastening the chain.  I peer down the hallway thankful to not see him anywhere thinking I'm safe from that leer in my home.  Faltering down the hall into the kitchen I pour myself four fingers of a nice 18 year old single malt aged in a sherry oak cask.  Raising the glass to my lips I tip it back, only to exclaim in  dismay as his sneer materializes at the bottom of my remaining solace.

Clutching at the counter with both my hands the glass shatters on the floor.  Dashing to my room, I lock myself in, switch off the lights, and retreat to my bed screwing my eyes shut.  The darkness behind my eyelids coalesces into his face.  Springing out of bed I turn the lights back on my eyes flitting around the room, never resting anywhere for more then a moment.  I will not give in... I will not give... I will not... I will... I... ...

lives

i reminisce of traveling this earth
You recall your child's birth

you listen wide eyed to my stories
Your daughter picks you daises

my apartment's garnished with exotic art
Your fridge is adorned from the heart

i speak of writing a book
You know how to cook

i think i dodged a bullet
You wont trade a single minute

Scene

He talks of travel, far off places, remote villages, forgotten peaks, hidden valleys
Pretends as if Mumbai is a place much frequented

She affects the persona of a Parisian in Paris
Beret set just so, black and white scarf encircling neck
Cigarette residing between fore and middle fingers

Spewing out words
Manufacturing sentences
Embellishing stories

Hearing but only listening to out do
Striving to impress while feigning interest

Time elapses
Poisons drunk
Talk trails off
Attempts at wit made
Passersby eviscerated in whispers

Last call sounds
Desperation sets in, signals are construed
He lives close by

It will not be passion

Seagulls

"They explode if you feed them Coke." stated Tyler.

"Really?", I asked incredulously not quite believing him.

Hearing the disbelief in my voice he backed it up with "Yeah my Dad told me they can't burp so they fill up with fizz until they burst."

I regarded the cola in my hand and asked "... but how do we get them to drink it?"

"That's easy," he replied, rolling his eyes, "Just soak some bread in it."

"Are you sure?" I still wasn't quite convinced.

"Here I'll show ya." Snatching the bottle of soda out of my hand he poured some on the corner of his sandwich tore it off and tossed it at the bird. I was so enthralled at the chance to see a bird blow up I wasn't even offended by his blatant pillaging of my drink.

Startled the bird flitted away from this sudden intrusion on its space. Settling down it regarded the bread with some apprehension. Over the years it had learned that food had the habit of appearing whenever these two legged creatures were around. After a few more moments of hesitation it darted in snatched up the piece of bread swallowing it in one gulp and hopped back a few feet all the while keeping an eye on us.

Retreating behind the bench we had been sitting on, we peeked over the top our eyes riveted on our victim. Unaware of his imminent demise the bird looked greedily at the half a sandwich we had left on the seat of the bench.

After a few moments had passed without seeing the promised bursting of the bird Tyler stated "We need to give it more pop."

Nodding but with my eyes still glued to the bird I reached over the bench and snatched the remains of the sandwich. Tyler returned my soda and I generously doused another corner of the bread. Ripping it off I lobbed it over the bench like a grenade. It landed a few feet behind the bird but before it could reach it another gull had swooped down and scooped it up.

I began to feel the first pangs of guilt at what we were doing to these two innocent creatures. Offing one bird didn't feel so wrong, but two made me mass murder. As I nervously looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching us Tyler took the sandwich and soda from my hands and proceeded to soak the remainder the sandwich with what was left of my Coke.

Chucking this sopping mess at the two birds he confidently said "There that should do it."

With trepidation I watched the birds devour the bait, my mind running wild with all kinds of horrible consequences to our actions. I imagined spending the rest of my life in detention or worse if we were caught. Still nothing happened.

"I forgot, we've got to make them move around so the pop starts to fizz up" Tyler informed me.

"No!" I cried hoping that maybe there was still something I could do to save there lives.

Ignoring me he charged the gulls causing them to take flight.

"There that will get all that pop fizzing" he said with a satisfied grin.

The lunch bell rang, and no longer wanting to see the results of our handy work I ran as fast I could for the class door with my jacket pulled over my head. Tyler realizing what would happen when the birds exploded followed my example and was right behind me. Reaching the door without being showered in entrails and feathers I felt relieved. Tyler stood at the door looking out still hoping to see the seagulls gruesome end.

"Ahh man!" he whined "I can't see where they went."

Ignoring him I tried to make my way to class as unobtrusively as possible. Every time someone looked at me I thought they knew what I had done. I avoided looking outside for the rest of the day, keeping my eyes focused on the blackboard. My mind however wandered. Whenever a bird chirped outside I felt it was accusing me of murder. I expected the police to burst in at any moment, take me away and stuff me in the Chokey.

On the way home I ran as fast as I could. I kept glancing at the sky expecting to be attacked at any second by a flock of vengeful gulls. I arrived at home, and without even greeting my mom I grabbed the cat hoping it would protect me and locked myself in my room. At supper mom told me that if I didn't finish my chicken I wouldn't get any dessert. Claiming to not be hungry I returned to my room with the cat and hid under my blanket.

When my parents turned on the news I crept to my door and pressed my ear against it, straining to hear any reports of the bird murderers. Days turned to weeks and nothing was ever reported. I began to think maybe we had gotten away with our evil deed. Still not convinced I was in the clear I never went out without a hat to hide my face from my avian nemesis. When ever a bird was around when I ate my lunch I always left part of it on the bench for them when I left to atone for my crime.

Then one day while sitting in class I began to laugh. Louder and louder I got, everyone asked what was so funny?

"They can still fart" I squealed with delight.

Not knowing what to do my teacher sent me to the office. I laughed all the way down the hall, kids ran to the door to see what was so funny and when asked I would cry "they farted!"

The Principal called my mother and I was still chortling when she showed up. Clueless as to the cause of my mirth she grounded me for a month with out desserts. I didn't care, my conscious was assuaged, I no longer felt like a condemned man.