Victim of your carnal delights
And whispered lies told at midnight
Love I thought would flow,
Even if quite slow. Now I know, ’twas not right.
Nights I sit and gaze in hindsight
Toward a future no longer bright
I turn the lamp low
Negating the glow
Even though dark gives fright.
Slowly daytime reveals the light
Daring me to find inner might
And revealing, shows
You let love go. Ne’er to grow, it took flight.
© 2023 - dustygrein
Note: This poem was built using an old Welsh form know as the CLOGYRNACH (claw-gear-NOCK). The clogyrnach is unique in that it can be built using 4, 5 or 6 lines, which made it perfect to reach the thirteen lines needed to do the acrostic.
(as published at the Society of Classical Poets website, Jan 2023)
Upon the rushing river’s bank I stand,
deep water, ever flowing as it goes.
The turbulence of my life it reflects
as if my mortal pain, it truly knows.
I close my eyes while cruel heartache builds
and boils. It swirls and churns from deep within,
akin to eddies in the river’s course,
all ever flowing seaward as they spin.
A lifetime lived within each second’s tick,
my heart’s emotions ever flowing strong
form rapids, waterfalls, and twisting turns,
which carve deep channels as they sing love’s song.
Though time often appears to stand quite still,
it’s always ever flowing, moving fast;
toward blank tomorrows and the great unknown,
each day it takes us further from the past.
Through waves of dappled light and shadows dark
we chart the river’s course each day anew,
as yearning, ever flowing, on we roll,
to seek the distant rest of oceans, blue.
Before us lies the fear of change and loss—
deep love becomes deep grief when torn apart.
Time’s ever flowing nature is our bane,
yet passing time can mend a broken heart.
My life’s become the river’s equal now,
surviving ever flowing pain and grief
while drawing strength from pools of love and faith,
I cherish moments calm, however brief.
© 2023 dustygrein
Smiling bright, without a care,
I always wear this disguise;
a veneer of carefree ease.
No one sees through all my lies.
Showing only a mirror,
I ignore all of my fears;
if you could see my true face,
you could trace the tracks of tears.
All my friend are quite impressed;
none have guessed the hurt inside
that leaves me crying at night.
Out of sight, I weep and hide.
Broken and alone inside,
I have to swallow my pain;
there’s just no way to prevent
screaming silently again.
© 2023 - dustygrein
NOTE: This is an old Welsh poetry form, the Awdl Gywydd (ow-dul gow-id). It is syllabic, as opposed to metric, but with it's interlocking rhyme scheme, it is a lot of fun to craft.
Broken and Alone
broken and alone
that’s how you left me
standing in the road that day
watching you leave
how could you
have been so cold
once we had it all
even when we had
vows we made
so many years ago
did they mean so little
when did your heart
I see ghosts in every room
yet the cracked looking glass
bears only a single graying
outside my window
and inside my soul
echo your name in lines
streaking down my
©2023 - dustygrein
A Different Monthly Cycle
( O )
Moonlight illuminates fangs, devouring innocent flesh.
© 2023 dustygrein
a small bullethole
swallows an entire life
in a single blink
regret can't erase
a high speed lead injection
delivered point blank
a stupid mistake
devastates both families,
victim and shooter
©2023 - dustygrein
End of Watch
Rounding the corner of the HAVEN veteran's hospital, I found the AMBULANCE stopped in the parking lot, its doors all open wide. The RAPID flashing of its light-bar painted the scene in monochrome pulses of yellow light.
The bald little DOCTOR in the DINGY lab coat GRINNED at me from where he stood, his eyes full of MALICE and the ancient AMULET hanging from the loose folds of skin around his neck. In his right hand he held an open STRAIGHT razor, blood dripping from its surface. At his feet lay the still-twitching carcass of a young AUTUMN LAMB, as of yet unaware it was dead.
I made a mental note to chuck the uneaten HAMBURGER on my dashboard in the trash. My appetite promised to be gone for a very long time.
He began to recite a CURIOUS litany. It sounded almost like a POEM in Greek, or maybe even Latin. His eyes never strayed from mine, which was good--I didn’t want to INVOLVE any of the hospital staff in his murderous spree.
Seven dead was more than enough.
I flicked off the safety on my .44. The solid weight of the weapon was both COMFORTABLE and familiar; I had never been forced to discharge it in the line of duty, but I had a PECULIAR sense of foreboding. I somehow knew that after tonight I would no longer be able to make that claim.
With his spindly arms, I knew his attack RADIUS with the blade was fairly small, but there was no way to MEASURE the evil of his intent. I approached cautiously; if I did have to fire, I wouldn’t do it ACCIDENTALLY.
LEGAL or not, there was no way he was leaving this parking lot alive.
©2023 - dustygrein
The Journal of Dr. Samuel Chase, PHD
It’s time. The cancer is advancing rapidly, and pain won't be far behind.
The new body is ready. It’s not perfect, but with a little additional funding the hardware can be improved. Besides, the mechanics don’t really matter in the long run, as long as the Pattern Populating Generator and the quantum storage tanks work.
I know it will all work this time.
It has to.
Sheryl has agreed to help me apply the spinal cord electrodes. The new skullcap has been calibrated and is reading all 7,000 feeds with 99.87% accuracy. Well within the tolerance parameters. The redundancy buffer isn’t even set to kick in until transmission falls below 99.5% clean.
I must admit I am nervous about the test this evening, but only because I really think it is going to work. This morning’s olfactory tests were the best yet. I can still smell the oranges that were in the chamber where the body is waiting.
I will be the first person ever to experience full sensory connection to a mechanical host body, via digital sensors and a wireless interface. The PPG is already running smoothly on the quantum computers, and has access to an almost infinite amount of data pattern storage in the tanks. Neural net mapping and population will be almost instantaneous, due to the time duplicity of quark tunneling.
Hopefully my next entry will be one of jubilation.
I sent Sheryl home this morning, after the interface failed.
I’m still not sure what happened. The machines fired up, and according to the logs, the PPG worked, and expanded my neural activity into the dimensional tunneling matrix. It looks as if everything worked right. It should have connected my consciousness to that net, and given me access to not only all of my own digitized memories and personality, but to the sensors and motor controls of the new body as well.
But it never made the connection. The logs show that the mesh occurred, but I never picked up even the faintest smell or a flash of light from the optics.
The body itself seems to be running fine. The biologic simulation systems are all functioning—for all intents, it appears to be sleeping, but the neural activity is just not there.
I left my spinal hookups in place. Tomorrow I will try one more time to kick start the interface.
If it fails, it will be time to reset the matrix tanks, shut down the body, and start the calibration again.
How strange it is to read that last entry yet again. I guess my life will be strange from now on, and it seems that from now on will be a very long time indeed.
The test worked perfectly.
Well, almost perfectly. I hadn’t counted on the dilation of time that happened once I passed into the quantum tunneling matrix. I was there for years, or at least my thoughts had years to ponder my dilemma. Once I finally learned to focus on linear time, and was able to orient myself, I awoke in this new body a day after the test.
Having a long time to think about what had happened, and would happen, led me to the only conclusion possible. I had to make sure my old self knew that I was here in the body, and that the interface had worked better than expected.
I’d suspected it was possible, but hadn’t really believed the interface would be more transference than connection, until I woke to find the lab quiet and dark.
My old self was no longer hooked up to the system, yet I was still here, in the new body.
Even then, it wasn’t until I read the last entry in this journal, written by my old self while I was still working my way out of the matrix, that the whole truth became clear.
I was still me, but it seemed I was still my old self as well, and he wasn’t even aware that I existed. This was the one contingency I had dreaded the most. I can’t let him destroy me, now that I know it works, and we can’t both be me.
It really comes down to a matter of survival.
This new body will run forever on its quantum generator, as long as I keep the extremities intact and the core safe. My old body is failing, and while it would die sooner than I had at one time hoped, I can’t wait for that to happen naturally. I know that now. Luckily, I also know how to make it painless and quiet. I should feel sadness at what I must do, but since it is happening to someone else who is inhabiting my old body, it won’t be that hard.
This will be the final entry in this journal.
I will probably end up destroying it, as it provides the only clue that I am not who, or what, my papers say I am. It will be hard though, as it will be the final step in my metamorphosis, and will completely separate me from the past.
This new body is great, even if the left leg is a little slower than the right. I will have to look into corrective surgery at some point, but not for a long while. Technology needs to catch up to me first, and the rest of the world has a long ways to go still.
My funeral, or I should say my distant cousin Sam’s funeral, was quite surreal. It did allow me to offer my family condolences, and hug Mom one last time. The worst part was when Sheryl showed up.
Poor Sheryl; she took one look at me, turned white, and fled.
Too bad she has now seen me in this body. She is the only loose end, but I’ve planned for that possibility as well. I will be visiting her tonight.
Then it will be time to board a flight for the Caribbean, and my new forever future.
©2023 - dustygrein
Howling at the door
Moaning harsh among the eaves
Hurricane winds fly
Flood the mighty works of men
Gray clouds weep and cry
Rainbow signals change
Sunshine and green grass prevail
Under a blue sky
One Night at The Spot
Through the smoky air I see her across the bar, playing pool and wearing jeans she must have been poured into. The light glints from her earrings as she bends over and sinks the 8-ball. I look around, and notice that every man in the place is watching her as well.
Well, hello gorgeous.
She looks my way, so I roll the dice and wink; her small grin is an invitation I can’t ignore. I salute with my beer, tilt my head slightly, and smile. Her grin becomes a bright smile, so I raise my eyebrows and tip my head in the direction of the door. In response, she nods ever so slightly. Without breaking eye contact she slowly licks her upper lip. Her eyes narrow, and she lightly bites her bottom lip before stepping over to the bar and downing a shot glass of clear liquid.
Please, let that be tequila.
She makes a small pout and turns the empty shot glass upside down. Her eyes find mine again, and change from a playful teasing sparkle, to hopeful questioning. I pull out my wallet, and as I walk toward the bar I cant help but grin.
This may just be my lucky night…
©2023 - dustygrein