New Math

Still Raining...nice.
I thought that I drank alot of beer last night. Then I found all of the bottles around the house this morning, still half full.
I guess I only drank half as much as I thought.
That's o.k. Today I'm only drinking half as much as I had planned. (plus the half that was left over from last night)
That should put me right back on schedule!
Right?

The Succubus

Almost over night it happened.
The change occurred.
The yellow came.
Something is sucking the green from my lush jungle, leaving in its wake a wounded forest.
The trees that stood so proudly all summer guarding and embracing my hilltop paradise are now withering and wearing the rags of fallen warriors.
Orange and yellow adorn these proud giants where only yesterday their emerald armors gave shelter to the creatures of my land.
They may still stand strong.
But soon, they'll stand naked.
These molestations seem to coincide with the chilling of the night.
That's when "she" comes to prey.
To rape the honor of her victims and suck their life into her cold belly.
The only witness, a full, but silent Moon.
I am safe in my castle, for now, but it is a rude awakening.
A subtle reminder of what must be done.
Time is running out.
There are still things I must do.
Preparations to be made...
If I want to be ready for winter.

Creeping Death

These last days...
The view from the tower where I reside has been consumed by an eerie mist.
The wooded hills and all that is in them, shrouded by the spectral fog.
Sol, a hostage of the elements.
I enjoy the grey serenity. There is something calming about it.
Haunting, yet beautiful.
I watch it make its rounds.
Gliding in and out of the edges of the forest.
Like wraiths on patrol.
Guarding the perimeter of Avalon.
My home.
Planet Dandy.

Slugish

I wish I could remember something that I never even knew.
I wish there was a secret about me that I never got to know.
Some fantastic story so amazing that it would change my life.
An epoch revelation that I was never meant to find out about, but did.
A truth that I was suppose to learn when I turned a certain age but was lost.
Something that would make me question my very being.
What's it like to wake up one morning to find out you were never even who you thought you were?

I suppose it's any poets dream to remove themselves from their own reality to seek inspiration from somewhere unknown to them.
I should just be happy knowing that I am who I am, where I am and enjoy my phlegmatic existence.
Besides, humans are far too complicated and fragile of a species to emulate.

Still...What if?