Skip to main content

B is for Experience


I have seen a hint of the danger. A smoke screen to the unimaginable. Some call it darkness. I call it Experience. And it is a teacher with a sharp tongue and an even more stinging wit.

I imagine it sitting in a corner, rocking in the shadows. Which is funny since Ex is old but not feeble. Still, it rocks. Waiting. Waiting for someone to whisper a plan over drinks or strap on their heels on the path. Then it rises to come forth. Guava whip in hand, just like Primary School days, to teach a lesson.

Ex… experience…  it doesn’t correct you just yet. You have to give the wrong answer first. Then comes the lash. And for every answer wrongfully delivered, another comes till you’re either sore or numbed.

Who is Experience’s Master? The Heaven? The Hell? You. You are Ex’s Master. It would have stayed there in its rocking chair had you not called it up. Like a medium, you control the Experience, though the pain tells you differently.

Soon you’ll be salved. The right answer comes and you are salved and saved. But experience leaves a scar on you and maybe, a limp.

As it returns to the shadows, to the chair, you smell the sulphur… you see the smoke.
Experience was here.

End.
February 9th, 2013

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

B in Future Traditions

THE COPY: I was sitting down listening to Norah Jones’ “Come Away with Me” and I began to think about future traditions. I thought… I want to sway with someone. Sway with my lover. To this music. More than that, I want that when we had an argument (and we’d have those because she’d be stubborn and I’d be pig headed (iChuckle)) we would never go to bed angry. We’d pop open a lover’s CD like this one and just sway. We may be as mad as hell but we would sway because we would never want to go to bed angry. And our children would know this. And they would never allow their partners to go to bed angry either because… well, because they would know better. They would sway. They would know it was better to sway. That’s the kind of man I want to be. Moreover, that’s the kind of tradition I’d like to pass on. Future Traditions. What's Yours?
4 comments
Read more

B is for Labels

He. She. It. Is. With. Out. Labels. And beyond that Is the stuff of fables. He. She. It. Is. Simply on the Earth Plain. Dealing with their own pains. And trying... To decipher yours. Because somewhere, in there, is a soul fighting wars. And they know, that to survive, they need yours. alive. So. He. She. It. Is.  Fighting for your life. As well. So hell. Fight for theirs! FIGHT for theirs!  Instead of crabbing up the barrel. Try to act more Supernatural. FIGHT for theirs. FIGHT for each other. There is simply no hope fighting each other. Please. Place all labels in he fire pit. Love is not a cliche when you understand it. He. She. It. Is.  Searching... Searching...  For you. For me. For Sanity. Don't hide your data stream. Crash into this sea of me. I will download you (no labels) You will download me (no labels) Till all of us is one with us  Like. The Divinity Three. No fussing....
Post a Comment
Read more

B is for The Hand of Gordon (Act 5)

5. The driver egged him on. This was the third bad drive that Gordon received at the hand of the demon with the driver’s permit. But… neither the speed limit nor his attitude changed. The demon's finger went up again. Gordon smiled, again. He shook his head. The civility of his action denied a certain truth. Though Gordon considered himself long suffering, his hand held fast to a young blade should the speedster lose control of his car… and his mind. Yes, Gordon just smiled.
2 comments
Read more