Mine eyes have seen death and strife
all my life
if you could see
what I see
daily
you’d see
positivity
despite the negativity
you’d see
I’m still happy
to a degree
my full story
an incomplete journey
through society
blinking at reality
-30-
Cassandra only had 72 hours left to live unless she found the right room where a giant magic mirror majestically stood waiting to grant a wish.
There were thirty-six rooms in the massive Victorian mansion. Each one a portal into a different dimension. With time running out Cassandra grew more desperate every time she opened another door. Her slim dancer’s body flitted down the dusky hallways like a wraith, only stopping to probe another room.
She found herself in ancient Egypt in one room and in London, England circa 1886 in another. She barely got out of the room safely where Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D. was erupting and threatening to bury Pompeii’s residents.
When Cassandra went into a room where there was a saloon in 1868 Texas where a gunfight was taking place, she narrowly dodged the flying bullets bursting through bat-wing doors and back out into the hallway.
She didn’t have time to reflect why the mage cursed her. Each hour brought her closer to an unthinkable ending. An eternal hell.
Cassandra was a gypsy who was famous for forecasting futures with Tarot cards. Her many clients spread the word over the years that she was better than anyone alive at predicting people’s futures. She believed them. That boast didn’t set well with other fortune-tellers and especially with wizards and mages who prided themselves as being “all-knowing.” One dark night a Greek necromancer named Asclepius decided to teach Cassandra a lesson for her hubris and cursed her.
The curse was straightforward; she was a prisoner in a house with 36 rooms. She had 80 hours to find the magic mirror and save herself before being eternally lost in one of the rooms. Each time she entered a room the hours would fly by like a murder of crows. At that rate she’d never be able to go to all of the rooms before her time ran out. So, Cassandra had to be selective and let her instincts take over. Drawing from her Romani heritage of mysticism she stopped opening doors and just put her hand on them and felt the vibrations within. It only took minutes instead of hours to determine what was behind them.
With two hours to spare she found the right room. Her wish was granted, and the curse was lifted. Back in her own house Cassandra picked up her deck of Tarot cards, stared at them for a few moments, then threw them into a trash can. It was time for a new vocation.
-30-
dreams and aspirations
swirling down the drain
and bringing pain
the watcher looks on
in numb silence
looking for guidance
dejected and alone
when none appears
there’s tears
life’s challenges too harsh
he swirls down the drain
again and again…
-30-
he was a puzzle to all
there were so many pieces to his personality
that people were in awe
he played the guitar
and smashed mouth soccer
and was an international star
women longed to bask in his glory
his rugged good looks charmed them all
they loved everything about his story
so, when he disappeared one day
no one knew what to say
the rumor around the neighborhood
was that he ran away…
screaming into the night!
-30-
Bob “Scoop” Nelson was an internationally known investigative reporter with the reputation for getting interviews others couldn’t get. He’d been around the globe a few times in his 21-year career and wasn’t easily impressed by his famous subjects. But he had to admit getting Jesus Christ to sit down for an interview was the pinnacle of his career.
Scoop was nervous, curious, and excited at the opportunity. He had a slew of questions written down in his reporter pad in case he was too overawed to come up with spontaneous questions. He acknowledged the meeting would be a miracle despite not being a religious man. He thought to himself that it was about time Jesus came back. If there was ever a time humanity needed him most, it was the 21st century.
Talk of the Apocalypse is rampant across the earth and for good reason. Mankind now has the ability to obliterate all life on the planet thanks to nuclear bombs. Hot wars are raging on all the continents and the climate crisis gets worse yearly. Scoop was trying to decide where to begin the interview when Jesus spoke, “Peace be upon you Scoop,” and smiled across the table separating them. The room was empty of all distractions with only one window looking out at the picturesque countryside. It was Scoops hideaway on an unnamed island that he retreated to whenever he wanted to get away from so-called civilization.
SCOOP – “Thanks for this chance to interview you oh Son of God.“
JESUS – “You don’t have to be so formal. Just call me Jesus. What would you like to know my son?“
SCOOP – (Forgetting to look at his notes) “Who’s going to win the World Series? No…no… I’m just kidding. Trying to lighten the moment it’s not every day I come into a holy presence such as yourself.“
JESUS – “The Yankees!“
SCOOP – “What the…?“
Jesus – “Just joking. It’s not every day I talk with a Yankee fan.“
SCOOP – (Picking up his reporter pad) “Okay then. When will the final end come for all humanity?“
JESUS – “Have you got a watch?“
SCOOP – “Oh no!“
JESUS – “Relax! Just joking with you again. Touchy. Touchy. My boss doesn’t allow me to give an exact time, or date, when the final reckoning will come. He just wants everyone to repent right now and be ready for the big day.“
SCOOP – “Gee… I’m not sure if my heart can take too many more jokes like that. Okay then. I’m an American. My question is simple. Is Donald J. Trump the spawn of the Devil, or the Devil himself?“
JESUS – “In the Bible I warned of false prophets. Trump is a cult leader, aka a false prophet, and a threat to your republic and the whole world. That’s the reason why I’m here with you today. The Big Guy and I decided to bless your efforts at educating Americans and the rest of the world about the cataclysmic consequences of letting Trump get re-elected. president.“
Scoop put his reporter pad down on the bare table and bowed his head. For once he was speechless. He suddenly had a new mission in life. A new, and more noble purpose than making money and living like a hermit. When he looked up Jesus was gone and there was a piece of paper lying in the center of the table.
“Actually, I wasn’t joking. The Yankees do win it all this season!”
-30-
The wind hammered down the narrow Sierra Nevada Mountain trail, followed by hail and then a blanket of snow as the man looked for somewhere safe to go…
he was covered by his old slicker poncho pulled over his sagging hat and leather clothes, a lone traveler who was nearly froze, but who was able to walk even though he couldn’t feel his toes……
when the snow stopped and the night crept up like a rattlesnake, the traveler had a decision to make, if he were to survive, he’d have to find shelter to stay alive…
when to his relief he found a small cave in the mountain’s side, an opportunity to get warm inside, where his biggest desire was to start a fire so the heat could get to his frozen feet…
he gathered some twigs and leaves off the dirt and knelt down while drawing a little cardboard box from his shirt, that to his horror only contained one match…
that he could feel and dimly see, a wooden key to warmth and being frostbite free, he sat there for what felt like an eternity, hesitant to see if the match would be able to relieve his misery…
holding the cardboard box on its side he took the match and let it slide across the rough surface and suddenly there was a spark, he lit the fire, and chased away the cold and the dark.
-30-
majestic giants rising from the earth
mountains have pierced the skies
since their ancient birth
they all have secrets to tell
about human beings
seeking hell
in their dark interiors
in caves and tunnels
with craggy exteriors
but doorways nonetheless
to the nether regions
and the hot mess
of mankind’s myths
-30-
they say I’m too wordy
and maybe that’s so
words drip from my keyboard
and I never know where they’ll go
I try to paint with words
like Pablo Picasso
wordy me
I enjoy sharing
history
and a good mystery
with words in a row
like ducklings
that know where to go
-30-
I still don’t recognize that old man in the mirror who stares back at me mockingly
I remind him that I’m still young… at heart
not some old warhorse pulling a cart
I’m still able to walk unaided by a cane
Froggie is still my knickname
in my mind’s eye
I see an entirely different guy
a basketball player and a fan
a very active young man
that stranger in the mirror
is vaguely familiar
a reflection of days past
that went by too fast
-30-
I nervously eyed the dealer as I settled into my chair. It took all of my will power to resist wiping off the ribbon of sweat that trailed down from my high forehead. I knew Frankie and Sal were watching me closely. Looking for signs of fear. Their boss, Big Boy Roy Zizzi was sitting at a nearby table sipping Bourbon and playing footsies with a red-hot blond who laughed shrilly at everything he said. I waited for someone to explain the rules of the game I was about to play.
Finally Big Boy Roy Zizzi got up and ambled over to me. His girth stretched the dress jacket to the point of tearing as he bent over and said,
“Myron my friend you’re a lucky man. I could have shot you in the back of the head and your body deposited in the desert by Frankie and Sal. But we’ve known each other for years before our little fall out here. You were my number one soldier. But your greed got the better of you. When I found out you were skimming money from two of my casinos. I had to take some swift action. The rules are simple. You get 10 chips. Bet any amount you want. But if you lose those 10 chips you get a free ride to the desert east of here.“
“Wait a moment! How can I win and save my life?“
“You have to double those 10 chips. Your dealer tonight is Belinda who just happens to be the best dealer in both of my casinos. She has a great sense of humor. So, let’s get this party started!”
I looked up and caught Belinda smiling. She seemed to be enjoying herself. I looked at the card shoe next to her hand. It held four decks. It was better than playing against one deck in my experience. Especially if there were other players at the table. But now it was just me and Belinda. I watched her quickly deal the cards. It was like watching water flow in one smooth movement.
My face card was a king. My down card was a four. She had an Ace. Her down card could be anything. Her hand hovered over the shoe as she asked me what I wanted to do?
“Stand,” I replied.
She flipped over her down card. “Eight!” she almost purred. I lost the first hand and found myself staring down at the nine remaining chips with a mounting fear.
For 12 grueling hours I managed to stay afloat but was down to two chips. After a few hours I grew to understand that she could have won every hand but kept giving me last-minute reprieves. Frankie and Sal were slumped down in two chairs by the wall and Big Boy Roy Zizzi – to his credit – was still going strong at the table with his blond bimbo.
I took a chance and bet my last two chips. I was exhausted from the tension. Belinda’s mysterious smile gave me hope. My face card was a 10. My down card was a jack. Her face card was a seven. When she turned over her down card it was a six. She drew another card. It was a queen. She busted!
“Let it ride,” I told her. And I won the next hand. And the next. I was up to 16 chips and flush with excitement when Big Boy Roy Zizzi broke away from his blond bimbo and waddled over to our table. He looked at my 16 coins. Then at Belinda. He nodded. She nodded and smiled at me. I lost.
-30-
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