Microsoft Word

 

Better than an Etch-A-Sketch

I write something

change my mind

hit delete

and start over.

 

No need to shake the monitor.

 

 

 

 

For Extra Credit

 

If seeing is believing,
how certain are we
that it’s wind
that stirs the flag?

What proof do we have
that air animates the windsock?

Who’s to say
the sailboat moves
because the breeze wills it so?

There already may be
additional fire
within the bellows,
and you are just squeezing
it out.

 

 

It's Official

 

After years in the making, thousands of trials, rough drafts and feeble attempts, the Left to Write Logo is here.

 

American Dream - Revisited

 

There is a certain feel to the beach, beyond the breeze and salt air, and much more than the sunblock and seagulls.  It is the distance from your desk at work, that’s what is lifting your spirits.  As long as you keep your cell phone off that spirit will live. All the shops that line the boardwalk, selling trinkets and tee shirts will look inviting.  Strangers will smile and the beach burgers will taste amazing.

 

The image of your life is suddenly framed by escape.  It’s the freedom that everyone talks about.  It’s flag waving at its best.  There are no schedules or deadlines.  Half-finished reports remain stuffed inside the darkness of drawers, and lunch whistles are nothing more than the cry of the gulls.  Those that are not flying sit calmly in the sand, facing the breeze head-on.

 

Oh, but if you could only bottle that feeling, you’d make millions and millions.  You could buy a big house and fancy cars.  You’d never have to work again.  You would have captured the American dream.  Then you’d be happy.  Unfortunately, on your next trip to the beach, instead of seeing the lovely little shops along the boardwalk, all you’d see were the crazy beach prices dangling from the obnoxious shirts, and the crazy trinkets, all from China.  You’d never pay that much for a burger and the seagull poop would be everywhere.

 

Walking back to your car you’d spot a pelican sitting there, looking back at you.  There would be an odd knowing in his look, like “I told you so.”

 

 

 

 

 

Santa's Workshop Today

 

Even before you got into the building there would be a sign saying, No Admittance – Employees Only

 

Inside you would need hearing protection, safety glasses and a hard hat, with a VISITOR badge hanging around your neck.

 

Yellow aisle lines would be painted on the floor, indicating where it was safe to walk.

 

There would be warning signs everywhere, and a large sign on the far wall indicating how many days they have gone without an injury.

 

There would be a timeclock on the wall, next to a rack of timecards, one for each elf.

 

Some elves would be walking around wearing white lab coats and holding clipboards and stopwatches.

 

Odd smells and strange noises would be everywhere.

 

No personal items would be allowed at workstations, no family pictures, vacation postcards taped to the lid of tool boxes or little troll dolls with wild hair.

 

It wouldn’t be a happy, colorful place with music piped in, but a gray and dismal factory, full of overworked and under paid little people, constantly afraid to slow down, incase an elf with a stopwatch was watching.

 

 Over the office hangs a large portrait of the man himself, Santa.  Scowling at the camera while a half-chewed cigar protrudes from his mouth.  Beneath that, the company slogan, Whimsy Wastes Time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the News

 

There are many, many ways, side is only one of them.  It wouldn’t surprise me to one day discover an English professor had run amuck and with a high-powered rifle and was shooting dictionaries.

 

Words all over the campus, running scared, screaming in panic.  Verbs taking to the sky, seeking shelter in the trees.  Nouns standing perfectly still, as if statues, too scared to move.  A stack of thesauri huddled beneath the overpass, wishing they could be something else.
Due to insufficient room beneath the overpass, a lone dictionary stood out in the open, unabridged. 

 

Campus police, searching for the shooter, eventually found him at Witt’s End, the campus bookstore.  Taking him into custody went without incident.  The professor, noticing his shoes were Oxfords, shot himself in the foot.

 

 

 

It's Because They're Smart

 

        When I ask myself why our leaders are not the scholars, the people who were at the top of their class, the answer rises to the surface.  It is because they are smart enough to not put themselves in that position.  They know better.  They can see the greed and corruption from a mile away, so why subject themselves and their families to that environment, however unfortunate for the rest of us.

        It was only a matter of time.  Spending years writing on this Blog that a small droplet of rage leak through my pen.  This was never intended as a platform for me to spout my opinions, or grouse  about the status quo.  I saw it only as a playground, a place where verbs could run free and adjectives swing higher and higher, until the entire valley came into view, even if only briefly.  However, as you see, I have teetered without tottering.   My dialog has become one-sided.  The cat has used the sandbox for other purposes.   For that, I apologize.  I will turn this off and return only when my creative juices once again flow.

        ZC