I don´t trust my words anymore

see when I start coughing up the alphabet on a white paper

only do I see the color red

see I posion myself with my own ink

see when I first fell in love with words

it was for fun

But then I realized you can use words like a gun

and your mouth like a bullet

you tell hurtful lies

and dust

them with

vengeful truth

see you didn´t expect

these words to grow

hands and slap you in the face

see you manipulate the ending the way you want it

to justify your anger

you go to sleep on cotton candy clouds

you hold yourself in a crucifixaion

at night

you wear black

and mourn your own existence

you know it´s until a matter of time

before they tear you apart

see they put a crown on your head

and you bowed down

and let the repuation sink in your bones and got to comfortable in the mask

see the church will lie in ruins today

after you sit in

the pew

see your the hymn

the sinners sing

see your the obituray

that sounds like poetry

see you are the raven

that poe wrote about

you are the mournful cry

that sounds like laughter as they watch your fall

you carry in your pocket a sliver knife wrapped in velvet

you commit murder

and call it justice

you are the hypocrite

that trembles on a holy ground

and calls yourself a religion

you are a lucrid dream

vomit

vulgar

vomrit

you committ

fraud

against

yourself

you

elate

yourself

and

deflate

yourself

you pinprick holes in your flesh

and call out abuse

you carve your hands in your mouth

and force

projectile on the page

you throw your heart up

and hoping someone will catch it when you fall

your the ex you wrote about

your the devil and the mary

you impregant yourself

with a disased mind

you go too far into the rabbit hole

and the magican can never pull you out the hat

because your no magic trick

your the rhythimical jester

at the court

you paint over your face

and wear a mask

your artifically made

you take the storys of others

and sow it in your veins

and

say you know pain .

you tie a noose around reality

and hang yourself from it

you were death

but you never came

virgin

hands

wrapped

around

the

fragilty

storms brews inside me

you call yourself a follower

of the path

you are infact your own master

to which you slave.

you stretch like elastic

and stray far from

the beginng

you manipulate yourself

your out of control

your mouth

its own gun

your hands the razors

your mind the bully

your pen used to save you

you learned how to use it for murder

see I take shots at my soul

to rember that I am human

I tell you the truth

I bring you to courtroom

and put myself on trial

at the end of the case

I will say I am guilty

I put myself behind bars

I clothe myself in a orange jacket

I brand myself with my own deal

I don´t trust this mind

it was told it was crazy

see they like to call you a liar

when you tell the truth

but maybe the best liars

tell the truth you can only handle

see the crow cried 3 times

and yet peter denied

see i am the sheep in wolf clothing

see i am lips that kiss the one i betrayed

see i am lucifer in your awakening

see I am the cloak of midnight

see you write in metaphors

because it keeps it from being to personal

see i leave it out here and be vulnerable

I

am

a

L

I

A

R

AM I ?

#darkpoetry #insanity of being Human #secrets #the raven crowed

Valentine’s Day is coming soon. Like last year I did a series of challenges based around the theme of valentine’s day. Let’s go for round two!

I created a bunch of challenges and I recommend that everyone give at least one a try. Links and descriptions are provided. Be sure to tag me if you enter so I get a chance to read your posts.

Let your hearts soar this Valentine’s Day!

Side note: The one challenge for the Gaming Portal does not show up when you click newest challenges. In order to find that challenge and enter you’ll have to go to the Gaming Portal, or just click on the link I’ve provided.

MICROPOETRY

Prompt: Write a short love poem. The catch is that the first sentence must have seven words, and the following sentences should countdown until you have only one word for the last sentence. Basically 7 words, then 6, then 5, etc.

Word Count: 28

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6673

HORROR

Prompt: In a stunning twist, someone’s blind date turned out to be a psychopathic serial killer. Write about the terror.

Word Count: 100-1000

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6674

COMEDY

Prompt: Things you can say about your valentine card, but not your girlfriend/boyfriend.

Word Count: 15

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6675

NONFICTION

Prompt: Your first crush. Write about it.

Word Count: 15-300

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6676

WORDS

Prompt: Define love in your own words.

Word Count: 15-25

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6677

PARANORMAL

Prompt: Write a love story between a living person and a ghost.

Word Count: 100-500

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6678

GAMING

Prompt: Which video game character would you go out on a first date with? Why?

Word Count: 20-40

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6679

LGBT 1

Prompt: Write a valentine card for a same sex couple.

Word Count: 15-150

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6680

LGBT 2

Prompt: Inspired by the animated short film In A Heartbeat, write a scenario where someone wants to give a valentine to another of the same gender but is too afraid to do so. Does it end happily or not?

Word Count: 100-1000

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6681

SCIENCE FICTION

Prompt: Date night on the planet Mars. How did it go?

Word Count: 30-400

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6682

REVIEWS

Prompt: Best romantic couple (or couples) from any movie or TV show you know.

Word Count: 25-250

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6683

ROMANCE 1

Prompt: Best pick up line(s) you can think of to pick up a hot date.

Word Count: 15-30

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6684

ROMANCE 2

Prompt: Let’s make Valentine’s Day hot. Write a sexy erotic story set on Valentine’s Day. How it goes is completely up to you. Man and woman, same sex partners, human and alien, married couple, one-night stand, BDSM, doesn’t matter. As long as it sounds erotic.

Word Count: 69-6969

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6685

FICTION

Prompt: Write the ultimate date night scenario on Valentine’s Day. Format is up to you.

Word Count: 50-5000

Link: https://theprose.com/challenge/6686

#themechallenges #valentine #love #prose #valentinesday

Lu sat behind his desk, talking on his phone. "So when can I expect that monkey?" he waited a response but received only silence. "Hello?" he waited several more seconds. Only static was his answer. The Devil slammed his fist onto the console in anger, which didn't help matters either.

His stepdaughter Rosie appeared by this desk. "Ah shoot." she innocently said. "Looks like the phone's out. Too bad you don't have someone to fix it."

A light flashed on Lu's intercom. Lu tapped his finger on the button and spoke. "Electric department," a scratchy demonic voice answered.

"It's me," Lu informed. "Phone lines seem to be down. Might be a problem with the new antenna."

"Understood, my lord. We'll get them up and running in about five minutes."

"Good to know." The Devil ended their conversation and pressed the intercom off. His signature sneer made Rosie uncomfortable, as if he knew what she was trying to get at. "You were saying?"

Rosemary sighed and walked away.

An hour later the Devil made his way to the tower's break room. An empty coffee mug occupied his hand. His dry throat required a fresh batch of coffee. Once inside break room he snapped his fingers, which automatically activated the coffee maker. It vibrated and jumped around in its spot like a rabid rabbit. Violent noises of broken nuts and bolts rattled inside it. Black smoked then puffed out of its filter.

Lu stood and watched as his precious coffee maker malfunctioned, muttering a low pitched, beastly growl. This was the third time this month that machine had been acting up. "Dang. Is your coffee maker broken?" Lu glanced to his left and saw one of Rosemary's friends, Krystal, next to him. "Wish there was someone who knows how to fix that, right?"

Suddenly Lilith appeared behind the two. "Oy, is the coffee maker busted?" The smoke cloud migrated its way to her desk. The violet secretary approached the coffer maker and worked a little magic of her own. Not real magic but utilized her mechanical skills.

She pulled out a tool kit from the cupboards below. A few screws in and a rotation or two with a socket wrench and Lilith quickly fixed it. The machince spewed out some fresh coffee and operated like it was brand new.

"Great work, Lilith," the Devil complimented. Krystal remained silent and walked away.

Later in the day, after his fourth cup of coffee, Lu hurried over the office bathrooms. He pushed open the door and was met by a small flood of toilet water. "WHAT THE-" he screeched when that same water splashed over his feet.

Lu peeked inside and saw all the toilets had water overflowing out. The floors were flooded.

"Bummer." Another voiced cried. This time it was Dominic who approached his father's boss. "Looks like the toilet is clogged. Bet you wished you had someone who could fix that?"

Lu now grew irritated. Still he kept his sinister grin. "Oh, but I already do." He then laid out his hand in front of the young demon. A small flame shot up from his palm, which formulated into a plunger. "Get to it!" he ordered.

Dominic sighed and took the plunger. Lu watched as the boy dragged his feet through the sanitary waters so he could undo the mess he created.

Both Rosemary and Krystal stopped outside of the bathrooms. "You know you didn't literally have to go and clog the toilets." Krystal called out to Dominic while he tried to unclogged each toilet.

"Hope you kids are learning by now that anyone can do Scrugs' job," Lu teased.

"Then why did you have him work for you all this time?" Rosemary asked.

Lu shrugged. "Don't know. Don't remember. Don't really care anymore." he laughed his horrible laugh that could be heard through the whole tower. "Now let's see how long it would take for that money to arrive."

Lu walked away and laughed some more. The three friends were left saddened that they couldn't convince Rosie's stepfather to hire back poor Scrugs.

"This sucks!" Krystal cursed.

"Agreed," Rosemary said. "Well I guess if we can't get Lu to hire back Scrugs then we'll need Scrugs to do it."

"But your stepdad, like, threw him literally out of this place. How are we even gonna find him?"

"I can find him." they heard Dominic's voice call back. "Rosie, your stepdad gave me his plunger. I can use it to perform a tracking spell that'll lead us to his exact location."

"Sounds like a plan!" Rosemary said. "Let's go get Scrugs back."

The girls raced off. Dominic was still alone with the flooding toilets. "HEY!" he cried. "Who's gonna help me!?"

#sinsofthefather #fiction #comedy #fantasy #horror #hell #demons

petaled hearts

cracked bottles

lost dawns

sleepless nights

strangers doors unlocked

hallaway light left on

starry-eyed

sunken

sober

strained

sundowns

shadows

creeping across the wall

tossed sheets

thrown tables

broken windows

baseless words

violent violets

vulgar vixens

yellowed eyed yarn tossled blonds

young youths hungover

popped pills

pyschedlic panises

crayola colored drugs

romeo to be or not to be

raging rage

crowbar cracked logic

crazy crackheads sniffting the same powder

wailing water works drowning the floorboards

wasted wages on dusty forevers

aging almosts

abused angels

cotton filled stomachs

trying to stop the blood from the gunshot

that grazed the heart on the 2nd floor

another sip

guzzling giggles

loose lips sink ships

liqiour late nights at the bar

mouth agape kissing the lips of strangers

to taste anything

touching the tangibleness of this pain

that could shatter the weakness of the amor that I let through my armor

untied the shoe strings

and set them on the welcome mat

the heart got too comfortable in the chest of another

tatterd seat cushions

chipped tables

cum stained toilet seats

used condoms thrown in the trash can

broken showers

stolen whispers

teared up tears

dagger through the ribcage

long drawn out cries

craddled in the crib

like a baby

holding your own arms

around that tiny soul

pull your own skin apart

to keep yourself warm

in the discomforting

thought

of loneilness

dead roses

wrapped with an obiturary of love that was buried by the last person who stayed in this bed

used cigars

tilted to the mouth to taste the human left upon the edges of it

glass doves

half-eaten choclates

thongs layed across the tub

bent bra wires

champagne bottle

tilted to the side

red lipstick lingerd on the lips of a liar

cheaters covet

he stained with the words I love you

planted it on another bitch

maybe he was the salt she needed

and maybe it is ink that stained him

that made him stay

real tears melt plastic

true love

ain’t true

if isn’t filled with lies

veins filled with novacine

skin sweating morphine

wrist grazed with slits

cursive letters curved

around

my finger

forming

like band

kissed

with words

of a lost forever

blue eyed boys

cause the blues

brown eyed boys

drag you to the grave

midnight curls

make you curse

your existence

brown haired boys

write poetry

and

break your heart

using the alphabet

you don’t have to cross over the ocean

to experince shipwreck

of the soul

dolly parton pink sheets

and babydoll nightgowns

mascara stained bedding

used tissues

lovers leftovers

black and white reruns

replaying the same scenes

the lines used from

your last lover

he was the cancer

that was spreading through your body

he was the pisces , that swam through your ocean

he was the leo , that devored your heart and left you hanging from your veins

the zodiac warned you about being a smart alec

crossing stars

with the devil

kissing the lips dusted in star dusts

red lips bleed blood when applied with pressure , see I asked for the truth but its funny all that came out of her mouth was lies,

she was weak in the heart

she rather sip on cough syrup to ease her guilty consicence

friends don’t slip sugar packets in a bowl of vinegar and try to pass it off as sugar water

see they forget

good liars don’t trip up on their own lies

see you thought I wouldn’t find out how dear sweet f , never mind lets not name drop.

you said

“lets not push each others for our own cause”

but really whats your cause

to strip him down and feed him

ambrosia laced with LSD

see you put theories in is head

about me that wasn’t there

see you have the voice of KAA ( jungle book reference the snake )

but you had the face of medusa

its funny the tricks beauty plays on you

karma lived here

she had the hips of sin

eyes of an demon

and her lover was revenge

Welcome to heartbreak Hotel

leave your heart at home

#they lies we tell in the midnight , all come to light in the morning #new year #exposed

Yolanda Cruz was adjusting a sheer blouse that she bought a couple weeks ago on her trip to Puerto Rico over her ample bosom. She was waiting on Fletcher to throw her his usual hand signal. She was about to blow this human trafficking case wide open, and it couldn't be a hotter night to tell the tale. There were at least three microphones that she could see, as well as the subminature condenser mike that went under her arm-pit, and was kept out of sight from the viewers. Yolanda could feel beads of sweat build in the spots where her hair was pulled back. She could already anticipate the unflinching scrutiny of millions of viewers, and was suddenly suffocated with the responsibility of being a live reporter, and wondered if she could even remember her bit well enough to get through this eleven o'clock segment. She was suddenly possessed with a tickling sensation all over her body that terrified the piss out of her. Fletcher threw up an 'ok' sign meant for her, and Yolanda bloomed like a rose, swiftly turning to aim her body like a gun at the readied cameras that instantly devoured her. She felt a sharp breeze nip at bare flesh, as she leapt instantly into the reporting field, that she attributed to 'getting her groove back'.

"There has been a fourteenth victim that police officers speculate is related with what is thought to be a mass human trafficking scheme that has been recently terrorizing the citizens of Phoenix, Arizona. In an investigation that was prompted by a horrific accident that involved dazed bodies of victims of kidnapping released into traffic on Route 51 at high speeds, a series of clues have been found that connect these victims to recent mysterious deaths and disappearances..."

Directly after finishing her report, Yolanda glanced down with a curious eye. Her right breast had broken loose from the unbuttoned neckline, and become entirely exposed. It stared back at her like a succulent mango, slippery as a jumping fish in the evening heat. The steady flash of cameras was coming on fierce and constant. Her head pounded, as her shocked blind of a face swiftly snapped out of the line of fire out of mad reflex. Yolanda's cheeks burned red, as she slipped her nakedness back into the blouse hurriedly, and turned and hustled back to the white news van without a second to glance back.

Slamming the car door tightly from the world, Yolanda shuddered, and clasped her knees to her stomach while she waited on her assistant. She sank ever deeper into the imitation leather of the seat, leaning her head as far back as possible, lulling herself into a false sense of comfort.

*

Pinkman had not had the bad dreams in quite sometime now. He had been slowly losing interest in his life in Arizona. Being a salesman was going nowhere for him. There was nothing but ghosts of Joseph's old life, so he decided to venture outside the board. He took a flight to Michigan, and settled down in a small lumber town called Rawsonville. It was easy to find hard labor there, and before long he was working in a factory slapping the packaging on cat food. It was a living that allowed him a small reward a couple nights a week, allowing him to treat himself to a twelve pack at Ralph's. One Thursday, after he had absently tossed a couple of Molson's in his cart, and was drifting over to the deli, he abandoned his cart at the veggie cooler out of instinct to try the first type of fruit that jumped out at him. He was leaving it all up to chance, allowing the first sight of ingenuity in natural colors and textures tickle his fancy. That was when Pinkman saw the back of a woman's head instead, and it turned a faucet on in his mind to a slow trickle. The trickle turned into a massive flood of imagery which started to saturate Joseph Pinkman's parched and otherwise deserted skull.

That woman with the raven black hair! Who was she?!? He spun around, and looked to see if anyone else had noticed her. Her black dress was puffed at the shoulders, and flowing magnificently behind her, almost too lavish for your everyday trip to the grocery store. She looked back in his direction, and it was then that without any question he knew her. He knew who she was instantly without having to take another raspy breath of uncertainty, or draw closer. It was Lise, the love of his life.

A salesperson from Ralph's seemed to notice his shock and confusion, and instantly approached him from a row of carts to the left. He had a red apron on, and black rimmed glasses that reflected lights from the store, but completely obscured his own eyes from Joseph. He gripped Pinkman's wrist in a vice, and whispered into his stunned face.

"I've been running, running non-stop, like a rabbit all day, so I know what it's like to be in a hurry, son. I have to recommend you melt that urge for just a minute or two, though. It's the best thing you can do at this indefinite moment. I promise you that. God's honest truth."

Pinkman slackened under the Ralph employees icy grip. He felt sick and dizzy, and tried desperately to steady himself without going unconcious, and turning to putty in this strangers hands. Craning his neck, he tried to get a better view of the store employee.

"What did you say?...Who are you?"

"Oh, yes, Sir, I'm Doug Pithe. I was just informing you of our 50% off on all 'Holy Ghost Chicken' lunch-meat from Sara Linn. Just let the Deli know that Mr. Pithe, the Manager sent you."

Pinkman stalked off towards the woman in black, brushing off the Ralph employee, and passing an aisle of lemons that was arranged by weight. When directly behind the woman, he allowed his hot breath to spill down the neck of her blouse. He did not dare touch her neck, but he could see the fringes of her black dress, and her slim figure that came together with a gorgeous set of buns, elevated, and pointing directly at Pinkman's crotch level. He pulled out his swiss army knife, unfolded the blade, and without hesitation, stuck it into her left side, yanking the blade out with some trouble, and stabbing her again, turning the blade as he rended the wounded flesh. Lise screamed, and the scream turned into a gurgle. Pinkman used his right hand to whip her body around. There was blood trickling down her lips as he plunged the knife into her right eye-ball, sinking it deep, until he felt it press through her brain. As she quickly died in his arms, customers started yelling things at him, and themselves in confused desperation. He shook himself out of the trance he was under, and realized that instead of the olive skin that he had known Lise for, this woman was black. He felt sick to his stomach, and let her body pitch face forward to the floor. A pool of blood started instantly forming around the discarded body. Banging against product, and knocking things loose from aisles, Joseph Pinkman shot like a arrow to the back of the store where there was a less utilized exit. Lucky for him, people were too stunned to know what to do. As he staggered onto the iced streets, he saw one of those sad Santa Claus's with the threadbare beards that looked too thin to be real, banging away with his bell for Salvation Army. Pinkman tossed him a dime before bolting for his car in the parking lot. The Santa opened a toothless mouth, exposing blackened gums in what Pinkman took for a smile. It only served to remind him of his fluctuating mortality. A bit of saliva dribbled from the sneery Santa's smile, as he gave Pinkman a water-logged wink from canary tinted eyes.

It is morning. Pinkman's in a parking lot of some sort. It is night again. It is morning. He is sitting outside of some white mansion. It is black. It is morning. Something has happened to Pinkman, and altered his ability to process his surroundings. He looks around, trying to inhale anything and everything through his eye holes and record it for posterity in his dented brain-box. A woman with bunny ears on is waiting for him with a plastered on smile when the driver opens the door and pulls him out of the cab. She reaches out a small gloved hand and places her hand in his. Pinkman feels instant warmth, and connection. She wants him to help her, he can tell. It is night. Pinkman is inside the mansion now, and the bunny-eared girl is massaging his hand as he continues to lay spread out on a red leather loveseat that's made to look like a race car. She is going through her nightly routine, ordering the help to groom her dog, but there is something subliminal in her actions. She snorts a line from another girls coffin ring standing behind her, and then gets his attention by staring deep into Joseph Pinkman's eyes and tickling his chin with a long fingernail, before rising, and encouraging Pinkman to rise with a shake of her bunny tail. The masked girl motions towards a sliding wall of books that reveals a spiral staircase that descends into darkness below the earth. There is a seductive tune emanating from the abyss, and the scent of perfume that keeps him locked in the progress of his descent. Now everything goes dark except for torches embedded in the wall appearing from time to time. At this time Pinkman's practically convinced that on the basis of such dramatics he is bound to meet some grand Poobah of some sort. Either Hugh Hefner or Attila the Hun, whoever it was, it would prove to be quite the reveal.

"Down the rabbit hole." The woman snickers back at him in the dark as Pinkman continues to follow her.

After Pinkman hears the cryptic quote from the playgirl he grabs for her bushy bunny tail in the pitch black, and is greeted with a folded note that he quickly squirrels away. The air is getting progressively colder in this odd tunnel. Pinkman's sure that he will get to where he's going soon. He hears a door slide open to the right of him, and is lead to a ladder that stops at a ceiling. He pushes the wooden ceiling stopper out of the way, and rolls a bit of rug up. He is starting to recall being in this strange place before, and going through these routines. In the semi-darkness, Joseph notices a hospital bed with it's covers pulled back. As if in a trance he lays back on the bed and throws some sheets over his face. Almost immediately, Pinkman hears the wheels of the hospital bed start to squeak and whine, and feels the shiftings of the bed as it is pushed by some unseen force. Soon, after banging through a few doors, the hospital bed becomes still, and Pinkman peeks out. He's greeted by a blinding yellow light which mars his ability to see the figure that is standing over him. A rubber stick is jammed in his mouth, and the hum of a electric device becomes overpowering. Pinkman knows that this is electroshock, and he knows that his body and mind can't withstand any more high voltage. He also knows that he's fading from existence, and there's no way around these people, and if it's not today it's bound to be tomorrow that he's forced to face the inevitable. He spits out the rubber pacifier and accepts the weight of the headphones that someone immediately fixes to his head. Digesting a heavy wall of dead air with lightening in the distance, Pinkman says a prayer to himself that he knows will never be answered. His memories will be long gone in an instant, and there's nothing in his darkening horizon. Pinkman imagines himself out sailing on a schooner, looking to the left of him, and to the right. Enjoying the precious calm, but knowing that in the distance there is nothing. Nothing but a sea of black with the storm clouds rolling in to wish him one final goodbye.

THE END

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

<font color="red">The Uncles are red-faced and merry, as Grandma is sipping the sherry</font>

<font color="green">The hour's but quarter to seven, and biscuits are starting to leaven</font>

<font color="red">In the tree hangs a cat, quite canny, with tinsel streams from his fanny!

<font color="green">Held in my room I resist, for around my family I musn't exist</font>

<font color="red">Little John tugs the tree to get kitty, sending tinsel en l'air ('tis quite pretty)</font>

<font color="green">And the Christmas tree falls to the ground, sending little sparks all around</font>

<font color="red">Old Aunt Mary with her bad knee, one step, two, she trips over the tree</font>

<font color="green">And sweet Cousin Mini kissed big burly Moe, there they stand under the mistletoe...</font>

<font color="red">Hark, jolly big 'Ma sings merrily, for fallen Aunt & tree isn't sad tragedy!</font>

<font color="green">But there was a box squashed by the tree: a delicate present unfortunately...</font>

<font color="red">The clay owl statue lost its beak; alas, it was an antique.</font>

<font color="green">Pa walks past the tree and grabs a box from the coffee table which holds the rare, precious, unbreakable, identical, triplet-owl-statue from the nearby antique store.</font>

<font color="red">But alas, as good ol'Dad turns around, he falls over Aunt Mary tinsel tangled on the ground.</font>

<font color="green">A gasp escaped from everyone there; on the floor with the owl, Pa's toupee very near!</font>

<font color="red">Till Cousin Brun-Hilda shrieked, "a Rat!" while chucking her heirloom red cloche-hat</font>

<font color="green">And though it was toupee not rat, she struck it quite hard with a bat, and while we looked on, encouraged by song, the owl was purloined by the cat.

<font color="red">Woof! Peewee the dog jumped off the sofa, sniffed and snatched the toupee belongs to ol' Pa</font>

<font color="green">Oh No cried Dad and covered his head, the rest of his face had turned quite red.</font>

<font color="red">Peewee the dog ran out in a flash, burying the toupee with the rest of his stash.</font>

<font color="green">Falling snow on frosty lands, Reflected from the earth below</font>

<font color="red">Arose the fullness of helping hands, bringing joy from where ever they go.</font>

<font color="green">Through freezing ice and burning sand, hearts are bright and all algow.</font>

<font color="red">Young singer's ring Jingle Bells gladly, while chanting out loudly...

<font color="green">Carolers arrive, such a joyous sound, hark what have we here, a man digging up the ground.</font>

<font color="red">In a large hat, Dad mutters and digs, where has that f***ing dog put my wig?</font>

<font color="green">This man needs help, the ground's frozen hard, come on carolers, let's dig up the yard!</font>

<font color="red">The carolers scramble all over the snow, and then one yells "found it!" as she pulls from below...</font>

<font color="green">The carolers clapped and cheered. Then, look! jolly big 'Ma brought them some Christmas treats</font>

<font color="red">Peewee the dog came out of his hiding place behind the wall sheepishly as the carolers began to sing Deck the Halls gracefully</font>

<font color="green">Without noticing the toupe looked worse for wear. Dad plopped it back on his head and presto he had hair.</font>

<font color="red">The yard full of holes, hands like ice, come inside, said Dad, it's warm and nice.</font>

<font color="green">The room filled up with much chat and good cheer, the tree stood askew, the floor had been cleared.</font>

<font color="red">Ahh... well-now, we're ready then perchance, for music and a good-old square-dance?</font>

<font color="green">Square dance sweaty, some romantic winks, food and gifts and loads of drinks.</font>

<font color="red">Everyone danced well into the night, Dad did some breakdancing and gave gran a fright.</font>

<font color="green">After a headspin he was bald once again, but moved into a freeze with a big fat grin.</font>

<font color="red">Then Ma called him into the kitchen, whilst music still made its merry din.</font>

<font color="green">The Uncles on cue began to tease, what should they tell Santa, if you please...?</font>

<font color="red">The kids didn't know what to believe— Bells rang out! and they had to go see.</font>

<font color="green">Outside a figure (much like Pa's), but outfitted in red! It MUST be Santa Claus!!</font>

#HolidayCrambo

What would my one wish be? To have the earth’s plants & animals voices heard- loud and clear. They’ll be understood by all of the human life that the earth’s resources all have great value. No more excessive waste, extreme cuts, or leaving places bare. Listen to earth cry out. Feel it’s pain. Such a wonderful place. Let’s come together and keep the earth’s wondrous beauty whole for generations & many more to come.

If granted two other wishes...I’ll have requested first- for Super human power, flight, inivisibilty- the entire deal. But then I thought- that’s not going to work for me. The government definitely would have either experimented on me, or sent me to join the army, maybe even lead the group in battle. That would have been a nightmare for me. I wouldn’t be able to look at my reflection ever again. Knowing that I used my powers to fight and not save. One one hand I would think I was saving lives, and on the other- well, actually not. Instead of aiming for a better way towards harmony, I would be only making things worse. The people not in the army/battle would see me as a threat, mostly just a super human who likes to hurt other humans.

And for the second wish, I’d have asked for a typewriter that types the words from my thoughts. I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. Not only that, my type writer could also be able to see my dreams & also get that onto paper. This way whenever I have a dream, and I forget...all I’ll have to do is read the page (or pages) from the typewriter. This would make me such a lazy writer. If ever my typewriter were to break, I’d lose it. Maybe I’ll not have the motivation/energy to write a word- not even a single sentence.

I must admit, the one and only top/first wish seems to be more realistic. As for the other two- hmmm, those may only happen in my peculiar dreams.

No wish is more valuable than the gift of acceptance. I would gladly trade in all my gold and silver, gladly trade in all my gifts and ribbons for it; and even then, those would only be small sacrifices. I wish for the world to one day realize that to discriminate is to only leave room for more hate.

Mother, can you hear me speaking to you? Can you hear me asking for you to accept who I am and the woman I love? Can you hear me pleading you to disregard the holy words of the Bible for a single moment, and to grant me my greatest wish of all?

Father, can you for a single moment, not laugh at me? And instead, acknowledge my wish?

If there was ever a genie on this planet, I would wish for bigotry to end, for love to spread; but if I only had one wish, I would wish for acceptance towards my people. Because bigotry may end, but would we be really helping anyone? If love were to spread, wouldn't many still reject it? But if acceptance would be given to me and the woman I love, I would be made the happiest woman on earth!

Three wishes! three potential wishes for the world, and just one to be granted, has me thinking just what is it most that I do not want universally, and what would absence of that thing really mean in the short and long run... what One Wish would serve best to top the List of all possible wishes...?

For instance, I do not want Disease— it would be a beautiful thing to have no physical or mental illness in the world... then there ought to be no war or strife even. But might people subsequently be released to do whatever they like? and what would that mean? uninhibited indulgence? an unwitting plunder of the planet? Do I want to live in a world without consequence? without death perhaps? without the potential of resurrection then? No— that would not seem to be a beautiful vision.

Perhaps no-disease would extend into the shaky moral/ ethical arena? If not, then maybe what I am really asking for is for elimination of "stupidity," or rather for Wisdom? If everyone were wise what would that entail for our capacity for Tolerance? Would it cease to exist— becoming obsolete? Would that be a good thing, or would we be somehow incomplete? Perhaps in asking for Wisdom— which sounds elitist— what I am in essence soliciting is an end to lack of "self-restraint."

If everyone exercised Discipline would it result in a better Life? e.g. improved relationships, alone and with others? greater resourcefulness, mindfulness of consequences, more consideration in interactions? less abuse, hate, greed? healthier daily choices? a sense of growth and full-fillment; empathy for all creation?

I'd like to think it would... world wide... so this is what I will wish for... Self-Discipline.

#Challenge #OneWish #TwoAlternates