I’ll leave you in the dark, just as they did — only I won’t charge you thousands of dollars to learn nothing. I’m offering it for free!
People assume because I’m a septuagenarian, I know more about life than most people.
86% of the global population is younger than I, so they still have a pile of poop to wade through before they understand they know nothing.
My grey hair and new specs give credence to my image as an elder ready to dispense wisdom to the teeming asses.
Now I’ve handled my personal branding. Let’s move on.
I want my hair to flow like a river
Stream over my shoulders
A natural caress of tresses
As the wind curls and
No more short, sharp,
Shiftless days with no blow-drying
Exposed to the morning light
I yearn for longer hair
A perilous journey to reach there
The end is months away
Today my fringe covers my eyes
The lies, disguised by careless
Flicks of locks
Revise the story,
Dream of glory
No thunderous applause
As bands of strands
Go their own way
A cacophony of long, short and
Dark days ahead
Why do you race ahead of me?
I learned to read you as a child
With no idea of when or where
Your hands would take me
Your numbers one to twelve
Toll the bells of seconds
Mark the march of minutes
While regiments of hours
Form a phalanx
Ready to defend their rigid rules
Meanwhile we human fools
Acquiesce and bless the days and nights
Or curse their passing
Caught up in this abstract concept
Invisible, intangible, infuriating
I shall kill Time
Tear up the calendar
Remove my watch
Flow with the seasons
We can’t change the past. We can’t reverse our biological clocks. But we can shift our perspective.
I believe my early years of typing plus a family history of arthritis contributed to my digits curling like old branches in the wind. Two remain straight and stubborn, reluctant to submit to the inevitability of being cancelled if they don’t bend their ways.
I held on to my guitar for two years after losing the flexibility in my fingers to shape the chords, strum, or pick a rhythm.
But weep not. I sold it for a timely sum on my birthday two…
Apparently, a woman who plays with dolls is childish.
I despised dolls as a kid.
Anything that smacked of feminine was anathema to me thanks to my glamorous mother who wasn’t built for parenthood.
Guess I was grown up before I grew up.
So, I’m playing with childish things now.
I couldn’t resist including a Sam Smith song:
Thank you for being here.
Melissa R. Mendelson is carrying the can for this week’s prompt:
In the spirit of self-promotion, I include links to previous works o fart published here. (The error is intentional.)
I have zero tolerance for people who leave things to the eleventh hour. You were already six ways to Sunday when you asked for help. I suppose being a four-eyes creates expectations in others; you assume I’ll happily give away my two cents worth.
BTW — how many pieces of eight are you offering?
Whaaa..? I’m on cloud nine!
Here’s a question: If there’s a fifth column, who’s the enemy?
Aw c’mon, I’m hanging ten today. Why the third degree?
(Here, the characters go back to square one. We still haven’t figured out who’s the protagonist and who the numerologist.)
The only port of entry
For memories to form
Filtered by a lifetime of events
Brain is the customs officer
Checking sight, sound, touch,
Taste and aroma
Making split-second decisions
Based on the past
Trained to fast-track
Only that which has something
New to declare
Discarding surplus goods
Imagination fills the blanks
In our memory banks
When the picture is incomplete
Our brains make up stuff
Off the cuff
What you think you saw
May be an illusion!
A research study in the UK, published in 2018 in…
Folks cry I get nothing done (talkin’ ‘bout procrastination)
Just because I fart around (talkin’ ‘bout procrastination)
Things I do go awful slow (talkin’ ‘bout procrastination)
At least I try, I’m getting old (talkin’ ‘bout procrastination)
Work short duration
With no frustration
My fav’rite sensation
The morning after I discovered Melissa R. Mendelson’s prompt, the song My Generation by The Who (don’t ask if you’re not a Baby Boomer) whirled around my head. As it rhymes with procrastination, I spent time (an alien concept) writing a parody.
I’ve been busy having fun — that’s the…
Civil unrest erupted on July 12 after the jailing of ex-President Jacob Zuma for contempt by the Constitutional Court — the highest judicial body in the country.
Zuma had refused to appear at the Zondo Commission unless Judge Zondo recused himself, stating without facts to back up his argument that Zondo was biased against him. The judge denied Zuma’s application for recusal, after which the ex-President walked out of the Commission. He never returned despite being issued a summons to appear.
The uprising in two of the country’s 9 provinces, KwaZulu-Natal, and Gauteng — the economic hubs of the country…