Tag: creative writing

Solitary Refinement Chapter 22

vagabondprophet:

Dear Diary  March 15th 2018

I need to talk to somebody. I’m going to lose my mind soon, maybe I should start talking to Joshua again soon, maybe I should write Liz again. Writing Liz took so much out of me the last time I wrote her, pouring out all my emotions knowing with certainty I will not get a reply. Josh, I was so mad at Josh for suggesting that Liz might not be faithful to me. I’m trying to look at this from his perspective, seeing a wife that won’t talk to her husband, won’t let her kids do the same, and won’t talk to her husband’s friends either. If I really focus on that I guess thinking there’s more going on than I can see isn’t exactly ridiculous, but what does that help? I love her and I believe she loves me and would remain faithful. If I let myself think otherwise I think I would totally lose hope. It’s hard to keep hoping, but I still look forward to getting out of here and going to see her even if she is furious and she hasn’t talked to me in a long time. Just that face, with it’s smooth skin and sharp lines and dark eyes, it’s still the one I see when I close my eyes and try to ignore where I am. I can almost forget I’m in a bunk bed above Kal when I focus on her, just the image of her doing something normal like cracking eggs into a pan. Sometimes I think of her wearing my baggy t-shirts while making pancakes on a Saturday morning. Everytime it manages to sneak a ray of joy and hope into my day no matter how bleak it has been. I hope it doesn’t get taken from me as contraband.

Did Joshua have a reason for thinking that about her? Maybe I should ask him. Not talking to anybody on the outside is worse than getting bad news from people on the outside I’m finding. When I think of how being ignored like this makes me feel I fall into a vivid daydream. I’m in the dark in a mountain valley, before the light withers I see tall mountains crowded tightly and high above me. After night falls and before I try to sleep I shout so I can hear the echo of my voice off of the mountains so I can feel like I’m not alone. No echo comes, nothing at all. My voice just disappears as soon as it leaves my lips, falling dead to the ground like a flower gone dry and tossed by a wicked wind. It wasn’t quite like I was mute, I could hear the sounds come out of my mouth, but they just never mattered and never got far. As if they were sterile, unable to father meaningful sound and just remaining mindless noise. Where did the hills go? What killed my voice? Questions, all I have is questions, even in my daydreams.

Solitary Refinement Chapter 21

vagabondprophet:


Dear Diary          February 14th 2017

I sent something to Liz for Valentines Day a few days ago. Return to Sender again. How can I stop this? I can’t make her accept the things I send to her and the kids, I can’t make her respond to me, and I can’t make her visit. I used to love Valentines Day, I wouldn’t do any overtime on those days so I could come home early. I’d swing open the door with flowers in my hand still in my overalls and dirty all over. She would give a rare smile and she’d be already dolled up with her hair up and a pretty dress on hoping I’d do something special and I never disappointed. I’d get a baby sitter and do a movie and a fancy dinner, after I got showered and dressed nicely myself. The whole time I was getting ready Liz would be positively giddy, just kind of giggling and bouncing on the spot like Nina, “come on, come on!”

Sometimes we’d even drive to the city and see a play, a big production, and we’d get champagne during the intermission. Those days I spared no expense. When we got home she would check to see that the kids were asleep and then practically throw me into bed. Unzipping her dress in one quick motion that I’m still replaying in my head, and unbuttoning my shirt while I fall backwards onto the bed. She always got so excited about sex on Valentines Day, any time I went over the top with spoiling ourselves really. I was always excited by her beauty, and I always wanted to spoil her too. I would have done all those extravagant things everyday if I could have. I would always have to make up for how expensive those nights were by working at least twelve hour days the rest of the month.

It was always worth it, not just for the great sex but to see Liz get excited about going out. To see her all ready to go as soon as I get home, electric with energy and bouncing just like our little girl, she so rarely got excited about anything that it was so great for me to see. The kids I could always make happy, just doing anything with them, all they ever wanted was my time and attention. Liz though, it was so hard to make her smile or even seem happy sometimes. I tried though, that’s all I ever did.

Rockets and Lullabies

vagabondprophet:

Rockets and lullabies,

Things that light the skies.

One to bring sweet dreams,

One to bring on screams.

One source of light

Has enough might

To light up the sky

Can we just try?

Can we try it once?

I’m not asking months.

In twenty four hours

We can ask the powers.

Which did you prefer?

When it did occur.

Fire and death,

Or a steady sleeping breath?

We tell children lullabies

Before we say goodbyes.

Aren’t we fighting for them?

Those green and budding stems.

Let’s preserve those thoughts,

The ones about lemons and apricots.

Not nightmares and bombs

That flatten pulses found in palms.

– Vagabond Prophet

Gesticulation Tower

vagabondprophet:

Pinstriped in the front standing

Just a little higher than everybody,

Our attention you’re demanding.

I’ve got to say you look smug,

Do you really believe

This’ll fit beneath a rug?

You’ll come falling down I say

Can’t say when,

But there’ll come a day.

Like Genghis Khan

Realizing defeat

Woebegone.

You’ll lose all your power

That you’ve clung to

In your gesticulation tower.

– Vagabond Prophet

Evergreen

vagabondprophet:

Twisting and turning,

Sinews yearning.

For every rivulet.

Taking the hard way

Taking the easy way,

Whatever the heart desires.

Splitting stones asunder

To take its plunder.

Rich dark soil.

Fortifying Vessels

Nautical wrestles.

Carry me across the sea.

Winter might

Brutal white.

Sorting deciduous, evergreen.

Dieing yearly,

Rather queerly.

Just a little cold is all.

But evergreens don’t listen

To what the weather man has christened.

Fruitful all year long.

Hardy, immovable.

A truth that’s not removable.

That’s how I want to be.

Evergreen.

Never dead.

– Vagabond Prophet

Little Knots

vagabondprophet:

Does your faith evaporate

Like water

On a hot sidewalk?

And children trample

On the remnant of your hopes.

What then?

Do you still believe?

When your heart

Undoes its rivets,

To let itself topple

Like a rookie jenga match.

Does your faith endure

The torrent of survival,

The steady drip of living.

Can it survive a head wound?

Or being trapped in a storm

With no way home?

It could be different you know,

You could let him carry you,

And work out the little knots in your soul.

Just know when your faith

In him is shaken,

His in you is not.

– Vagabond Prophet

Pocket of Tears

vagabondprophet:

If you’re crying

And you can’t stop,

Follow these simple steps.

Don and button

Your least favourite coat,

Just trust me.

Catch every tear

Into a single pocket

Until it’s brimming.

Then take that pocket

Sew it shut,

If just so you can shed it.

We must unclothe

Our deepest sadness,

No one is warmed by grief.

Now burn it all

Yes the coat too,

For no one is warmed by grief.

– Vagabond Prophet

Solitary Refinement Chapter 22

Dear Diary  March 15th 2018

I need to talk to somebody. I’m going to lose my mind soon, maybe I should start talking to Joshua again soon, maybe I should write Liz again. Writing Liz took so much out of me the last time I wrote her, pouring out all my emotions knowing with certainty I will not get a reply. Josh, I was so mad at Josh for suggesting that Liz might not be faithful to me. I’m trying to look at this from his perspective, seeing a wife that won’t talk to her husband, won’t let her kids do the same, and won’t talk to her husband’s friends either. If I really focus on that I guess thinking there’s more going on than I can see isn’t exactly ridiculous, but what does that help? I love her and I believe she loves me and would remain faithful. If I let myself think otherwise I think I would totally lose hope. It’s hard to keep hoping, but I still look forward to getting out of here and going to see her even if she is furious and she hasn’t talked to me in a long time. Just that face, with it’s smooth skin and sharp lines and dark eyes, it’s still the one I see when I close my eyes and try to ignore where I am. I can almost forget I’m in a bunk bed above Kal when I focus on her, just the image of her doing something normal like cracking eggs into a pan. Sometimes I think of her wearing my baggy t-shirts while making pancakes on a Saturday morning. Everytime it manages to sneak a ray of joy and hope into my day no matter how bleak it has been. I hope it doesn’t get taken from me as contraband.

Did Joshua have a reason for thinking that about her? Maybe I should ask him. Not talking to anybody on the outside is worse than getting bad news from people on the outside I’m finding. When I think of how being ignored like this makes me feel I fall into a vivid daydream. I’m in the dark in a mountain valley, before the light withers I see tall mountains crowded tightly and high above me. After night falls and before I try to sleep I shout so I can hear the echo of my voice off of the mountains so I can feel like I’m not alone. No echo comes, nothing at all. My voice just disappears as soon as it leaves my lips, falling dead to the ground like a flower gone dry and tossed by a wicked wind. It wasn’t quite like I was mute, I could hear the sounds come out of my mouth, but they just never mattered and never got far. As if they were sterile, unable to father meaningful sound and just remaining mindless noise. Where did the hills go? What killed my voice? Questions, all I have is questions, even in my daydreams.