I’ve not seen it all
this movie that weaves
in and out of close encounters
actors are not what they seem
on any kind of stage
whether supported on oak trestles
or razor thin wire
the money flows like milk and money
brewed and bottled on the black market
where trade secrets are available for sale
anywhere from one to a million bitcoin
sometimes I like to daydream
during the night
just to shake things up
excited to rehearse those parts
I’m least familiar with
may two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ve been spending a little time visiting old friends here on WordPress and I’m so glad to reacquaint myself with the vast and varied talent that lives here. I didn’t know how much I missed them all. Please read this truly touching poem from Paul F. Lenzi. Please visit his site 🙂
You think you know me, but you do not. You make up stories about me and believe they are true, but they are not. You mold me into what you wish me to be but I tell you, you know me not. You give me names that suit you, suit your fiction and your beliefs, but do you ever wonder who I truly am? Do you ask yourself what I am?
Humans are funny creatures, thinking that believing makes it so. I can assure you that nothing is farther from the truth. Outside of your slanted and tiny belief system are wonders untold. Layers of life you are blind to, by choice and by circumstance. You turn away from the things that do not fit into your story but those things do not disappear, they live on without your consent or acknowledgement.
I had to share this wonderful short story by Gigi. She weaves such magical tales filled with love and hope. Do visit her page to find more treasures.
Everyone thought Billy, Bobby and Jimmy were brothers, I mean they did have the same last name, after all. But the truth is, the boys were not related in any way. Matt and Clarise Connely had Billy and then sort of picked up Bobby and Jimmy along the way.
They were living on Elm Street, in a sleepy sort of town, when Bobby started hanging around their house. He and Billy became friends and what was once a, “would you like to stay for dinner,” invitation quickly turned in to an every night occurrence. Bobby, it seemed, was afraid to go home. Clarise could see it on his face and in his manner. One night, when everyone went into the living room, she asked him to stay the kitchen for a moment. Clarise asked Bobby to sit down at the table, which he did rather reluctantly. She gave him a plate of chocolate chip cookies, right out of the oven, so the chips were soft and stringy, just the way he liked them.
“You’re almost living here,” said Clarise sweetly.
“Can I?” asked Bobby.
“Can you what?”
“Live here,” he answered in a rush, his eyes wide, chocolate smeared across his upper lip. “Please.”