Random posts by random folks
I know you
I walked with you
once upon a dream
or so I thought anyway–
it all grows confusing
when I stop to think about it.
So I try not to stop and think about it
but I do
every now and then.
I’ll take a detour
on a road, a path,
an avenue
of questionable memories
in my brain.
Disorientation takes hold
and it all grows confusing again.
I know you
but it isn’t fate
and it wasn’t the past
and my mind never could have
come up with a dream
like you.
The eyes have it.
Yours didn’t.
Do I stay
or do I go?
I didn’t know.
Now we both exist,
we live our lives–good lives!–
but we cross paths
with passing glances.
I don’t need to know
but I sure want to.
Do we course correct,
do we connect, do we
throw all caution without care,
do we carry on
as two unpaired?
What’s the story
hidden there?
Is it one
you want to share?
.
.
.
.
.
I was just headed to my car when another car slowly pulled up behind me. It was an older woman behind the wheel. She had a prominent frown on her face but you know what they say about the books and the covers and such.
‘Where’s the car wash around here?’
‘Which one?’
‘The car wash!‘ she reiterated.
‘There’s two that direction,’ I explained to her, pointing north. ‘One on the left and one at the right.’
‘I’m looking for one called the Spa.’
‘That’ll be on the right,’ I said. ‘Alright, see that light right there?’
She nodded.
‘You’re going to go straight through that. When you get to the second light, you’re going to take a right.’
‘So go through the first light, turn right at the second?’
‘Yes ma’am. There’ll be an Aldi up there by the Spa.’
‘I’m not from around here so I won’t be looking for that,’ she assured me with a hiss.
‘Fair enough. Hope that helps. Have a good one.’
‘Yeah,’ she muttered and drove slowly to the end of the lot. She had to turn around and headed out of the lot just as slow.
I got in my car and started towards those two intersections too. I was headed to the left though. I figured she would already be at the car wash since I didn’t leave the parking lot right away. But sure enough, we met at the first intersection.
You realize how incredibly boring this story is, right?
I do.
Okay.
I was in the left lane, she was in the right. The light turned green and we started for the second light straight ahead. Couldn’t miss it if you tried. I looked over a couple times to get her attention but she was like a horse with blinders. She was on a mission. And when we got to the light, I made my way to the left turn lane.
And she made her way to the right?
Nope. I watched that grumpy old woman haul ass through a yellow light, headed straight.
The city burns as Nero plays
but you would rather face the blaze
to fight for riches–ash and soot–
cheap treasures trampled underfoot.
You made it there, why can’t you leave?
Weren’t you the one who did believe
that all the roads did lead to Rome?
Then why can’t they help guide you home?
The fire was hot, we knew as much,
there was no need to prove it.
But burns do hurt and make us see
that we don’t ask to soothe it.
Her heart leans on coincidence
and leaves me lacking a defense
and even if there’s no offense
it feels premeditated
and I hate that I don’t hate it
The twinkle in your eye
was no reflection,
it is the winds.
I know you, I said.
I recognize the storm.
Would those eyes bear tears or rain,
a blissful mist
or natural phenomenon
without rival?
You were always a calming storm,
but I seem to bring out
its destructive side.
Won’t you rain on me, storm,
won’t you talk to me?
To forget the sins of the past
is folly
all present things considered–
like where would we be?
what would we know?
who would we know?
Wouldn’t dare leave that
to chance or fate,
sun, moon, or stars.
You think that I’m a fool
but we’re both standing here now.
So now I must know:
did I forget something
or did you?
Does that sound like a test question? Probably. We attempted to answer it though. On today’s episode, Clint and I talked about how stories don’t change while they are constantly changing. He would normally make the post here, but we’ve included a few extras today. So if you have thoughts on the subject, there is a poll below. There’s also a little “behind the scenes” bit on the second slide of the Instagram post.
Episode 8 of the Unnecessary Podcast can be found on the following sites:
(If anyone is interested in reading their poetry on the program–by pre-recording an audio file, having it read, or some other method–feel free to contact us on the contact page or email cdanders91@gmail.com )
Hope you all have a great weekend.
God bless!
C. D. “Cory” Anders
Look here, now look and hear . . .
People carry cardboard signs, the remnant of old trees,
painted with large letters: I’M UPSET
but for what? It was not specified.
Pillows wet with tears
scream quietly in desperation
for the pain to end
and the silent cries uttered
from desperate hearts
echo through the body’s exterior:
looks of tiredness, anger,
shock, and apathy.
No letters, many signs.
Someone has a twitch in their eye,
another shudders at a touch,
yet another smiles
because that will at least mask
the silent yells.
Starving mothers, fathers, siblings
give the only morsel
to the child.
Multitudes stand silent
and wait.
Wait.
And wait.
A noise is heard ’round the world,
“Help!” Help who? Who needs it?
No one said they needed help . . .
If a tree falls in the forest
and no one is there to hear it–
Yes, yes, most definitely yes,
the forest reaches
beyond the bark
of our own trees.
Look here, now look and hear.
The Unnecessary Blog 