NASA Image of the Day

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Scrubs for Peace

Azure and agile, spark and murmuring silently, muse and moment,
Only speak.
Speak, and there will be a movement, here, in my quiet, that I have hidden,
Kept safe, guarded and shielded
Against Death.
Held here, in the ink of night, ink of heart, ink of flame and of flower,
It has watered the garden of forget, the blossom of try, and the field of hope.
It has danced, when my feet could not, dragging, like the awkward placement
of Me
in My own life.
I feel I intrude, somehow, without you.
See, here! Here is this small mountain, raised towards your hand. It is a proud breast, this.
Strange, how skin is current, then, after all.
Strange, this soft sweet now, and warm, and breathe,
When all the earth is shrieking with
Permutations of its Own Agony.
I want it to Heal Itself.
Circle's half, here is my piece; hold my hand.
We'll not know who is Assisting.
It's Irrelevant.

Self Defence

"What do I look like, a pussy?", he said, glowering.

She paused - as was her wont - thoughtfully, pursing her lips, and narrowing her eyes at him.
The words, when they rolled softly from her lips, were punctuated by perfectly enunciated consonants.

"Well", she mused, "my only other alternative was asshole, and it seemed rather rude, frankly."

Three people, struggling mightily to control their sudden coughing, left the room, as the door clicked loudly behind them. A muffled kind of strangled sound - rather like screaming laughter and choking - sounded from the hallway.

She smiled at him, fondly.