“Darlin…”, the devil said, with a drawl so pronounced, you could smell mama’s chicken and okra on the stove, “…if we are not permitted on occasion, to bathe in the pools of self pity, lathering ourselves with the soothing essence of misery, while washing our hair in the effervescent pearls of despair, then what pray tell are we doing here…”

The Plunge

The plunge into madness complete, the visions suspect at best. One moment, the day is clear, white puffy clouds filling a sky, so blue and bright, it burns the fingertips of the soul. In just an instant, the same world plummets into darkness, a void in which nothingness reigns supreme, from a throne forged from tear stained, black ice.

Reason has abandoned all hope. Logic and calm abandoned ship, just after the maiden voyage. Leaving confusion, fear, and anxious bubbles, the size of blood soaked cannon balls.

In the throws of defeat, delusions most grand, offer a fleeting sense of immortality, an eternal promise, like the soft, supple, swell of a young woman’s bosom.


A leisurely snow, falls from the sky. The cold streets are filled with impatient cars, eager to be no place in particular. The traffic filling the sidewalks, carries disappointment. A complacent surrender. What this day might bring, hangs heavy around this city. Like a dark, dirty cloud.


Does she still laugh at silly things. I haven’t heard it for so long. There was a time back before our lives took separate paths, when we would finish one another’s sentences. Her laugh would hold me spellbound, it was like an addiction I craved. That kind of connection in my experience is rare. I have never known another that way. I have known a deep love, but that was a unique bond shared between two. Life, love, work, and it seems time itself came between us. I do cherish the laughter we shared, even more so now. I can’t help but wonder after these years of being apart if those days, those fleeting precious moments really, still surface on days like today in her mind. Are there times when she needs a friend, and she can recall that gentle flowing conversation. Do her memories include visions of the young man who gladly played her clown. Just so he could catch a glimpse of her smile and hear her sweet laugh. She likely packed it away neatly. I may just be longing for a time when everything made sense. When the uncertainty of tomorrow held magical possibilities. She would say no regrets, live and laugh.

Merry Christmas

Ron L

Longing in Reality

He catches a glimpse of it often. Though it never manifests straight on. Only revealing itself, in his peripheral. The sight is enough to chill his soul.  He accepts that it serves to torment him. To render his punishment for the failings inherent with mortality.   Disturbing his slumber, bringing terror to the cold darkness of isolation. Serving as a reminder of what he can no longer know.  A vision of what might have been had her love remained. His eyes though, fully see the truth and longing in reality.

Dark Lady

His slumber is filled with visions of her beauty and magic. She charms him with a voice calming to his soul. Night and day he rides in search of her. Through villages, across the prairie, upon the desert, and through the deep forest, ever searching. She beckons to him in brief dreams, seducing his waking moments. He is possessed with one desire, to know her embrace. Onward he rides calling out to his dark lady.


Another brought a purpose beyond just being. A meaningful life as they say, can fade away. The senses once heightened, hearing, feeling, and seeing. A heart lost, cast on rough seas, awash in uncertainty. Once rushing to embrace the wonder. Like the promise of a new sun, home once thought to be everlasting. No longer finding sanctuary only rememberences. Languishing in memories steeped in loss. Music once sweetened, now like soured wine. Without sail or rudder, falling into empty ports. There was a purpose, where now only torment dwells.


Not so idle hands will often betray words that ring hollow. We’ve heard it all before. Now you have to show me. No time for lectures. You chose your vice, I’m damn sure going to have mine. A heavy heart lashes out, still finding no solace. I can admit to sin. Words can be a weapon but hell they are cheap. No matter how pretty, they won’t alter reality. So, set mine to music and watch me waltz across heartache.