When the Plane Goes Down

I'd like to think that if the plane went down
I'd spend my final moments contemplating the infinite,
But I know I'd go screaming holy hell like the rest of them,
And I suppose that would be more fun.
We spend our lives contemplating,
Waiting for the right moment to attract everyone's attention.
When the plane goes down, you'll be screaming for attention,
But the person in the seat next to you will only hear his own screams.

Stuck

What is this wretched filth at the back of my throat?

Cough! Hack!

It is the phlegm of life’s injustice.

I can barely breathe now from its consistency.

Those who are honest are burdened with more truth than they can bare,

While the liars walk free

Earning fame with their crimes.

Someone told me once that life is a journey.

Now, I am stuck in the bog,

And I am only sinking.

Here now, lift me up, if you will.

Take me back to the road,
But shield me from that which stalks me

That I might breathe easy

If only for a while.

The Lightning Witch

Once there was a little boy named Jimmy Bominsky who had a very severe and seemingly irrational fear of lightning. During a storm Jimmy would get out of bed and go to his parent’s bedroom. “Mommy! Daddy! The lightning witch is outside my window!” Well, of course, as all parents will when their children begin to complain about witches outside their window, they told Jimmy it was just his imagination. But the fact was, there really was a witch riding down on bolts of lightning to spy on little Jimmy, for Jimmy was a spectacularly beautiful child, and the lightning witch wanted to add to her collection of rare, beautiful children, which she kept in a special room in her palace in the clouds.

                One night, during a storm, as Jimmy lay in bed, the lightning witch came down and tapped on Jimmy’s window. Jimmy looked, and the witch smiled a most horrible smile and held up a beautiful ripe fruit, the kind of which Jimmy had never seen before. Jimmy heard her cackling voice through the window. “My little precious one,” she said. “Open the window, won’t you? It’s awfully unpleasant out here. Wouldn’t you like to try some of this fruit?”

                “Go away!” cried Jimmy. “I’ll never let you in!”

                “Well,” said the witch, “never you mind. I’ll just leave this fruit here on the ledge. You feel free to try it anytime you like.” And with that the witch was off shooting into the sky on another bolt of lightning.

                Day after day Jimmy gazed longingly at the fruit outside his window, till finally he could resist it no more. He took a bite of the fruit and thought, “Well isn’t that tasty!” He was just about done when, to his great surprise, little hands began to stick out of the core of the fruit. The little hands tore and tore at the flesh until they broke through, and out popped three awful looking demons, with scaly green flesh and mean yellow eyes. The demons reached and grabbed for Jimmy’s lips, and when they got hold of them, they stretched his mouth wide open and climbed inside. The demons forced themselves down into his throat, and went down till they reached the pit of his soul, where they could use their talents to wreak havoc on his life.

                The next day Jimmy went off to school. On the playground that day, Jimmy spotted Michael Saunders bending over to tie his shoe on top of the play set. Jimmy, to his own great surprise, kicked Michael in the behind and he fell all the way from the top of the play set to the ground. When Michael told the teacher what had happened, she sent Jimmy to the principal’s office. “You have behaved very poorly, young man. Frankly, I’m surprised at you!” said the principal, who proceeded to suspend him.

                On the car ride home from school Jimmy’s mother was scolding him. “I know I taught you better than that! You should be ashamed of yourself for such cruel, thoughtless behavior!” Suddenly (and he had no idea why), Jimmy reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, pulling the car off the road. His mother shouted and slapped Jimmy hard across the cheek. But Jimmy was madder at himself than his mother was.

                That night Jimmy had to go to bed early, with no supper in fact. He lay in bed and gazed out the window. Just as it was nearing dark, a thunderstorm began. The wind outside was blowing the trees around in a mad fury. The rain was swirling around so violently that the air seemed to shake like the cage of a wild beast. It grew darker and darker and the storm raged on. Finally, there was a flash of lightning that shot right past Jimmy’s window, and seated upon it, floating in mid air, was the lightning witch. She looked in with her horrible, wide black eyes and smiled like a hyena honing in on a meal. Jimmy hid his face in his pillow.

                “Don’t be scared, little one,” said the witch. “I’m not here to harm you!”

                Jimmy looked up and yelled: “Oh yes you are! That fruit you gave me had an awful poison in it, and now I can’t stop doing bad things!”

                The witch continued smiling, though her eyes narrowed quite a bit. “Now, now,” she said. “That is a shame that you got a bad one. Usually my peomins are quite pure, but of course, there is always a risk…But I have the cure for your little ailment.”

                Jimmy perked up. “You do?” he cried. “Give it to me.”

                The witch began to look a little downcast, though she was still smiling. “I would, but it’s in my castle. Come with me and I’ll give it to you.”

                Jimmy considered his options and decided that he couldn’t go another day with the sickness inside of him, so he told the witch he would go with her, as long as he could bring his trusty friend, Ted, the dog, along. The witch agreed. Jimmy, holding his dog, climbed out the window and sat down behind the witch on the lightning bolt. It was so hot it almost burned his bottom. The witch let out a horrible cackle and…poof! They were off. Jimmy could see nothing but darkness and mist as they flew through the clouds, except for the occasional lightning flash that would fly by. But the sound! Never before had thunder sounded so deafening to Jimmy before. Ted, the dog, nearly jumped out of Jimmy’s arms at the sound. Eventually they rose up above the clouds, and Jimmy gasped in amazement at what he saw. Perched on top of one of the clouds was a huge black castle with three massive spires and an embattlement with a sinister looking gate. As they approached, Jimmy thought he heard the sound of screaming coming from within. He was beginning to regret his decision to come with the witch. Ted began to whimper in Jimmy’s arms.

                The gate opened for them and they entered the courtyard. It was made entirely of black stone, and there were terrible looking dogs chewing on what appeared to be human carcasses. Jimmy looked away in terror. They then entered through the massive doors into the castle itself. Like the courtyard, it was made entirely of black stone, and the only decorations were tools of black magic—bronze mixing bowls inlaid with jewels, mirrors that reflected only what you wanted to see, wands made from gnarly dead branches, and shelves filled with corked bottles containing every conceivable ingredient. They floated up a staircase and down a long dark hall, at the end of which was a wooden door. They stopped. Jimmy could hear the sound of moaning from within.

                “This is where I keep the antidote,” said the witch. With a gesture from the witch, the door flew open. It was pitch black inside.

                “No!” said Jimmy. “You’re lying!” He tried to jump off the lightning bolt, but the witch grabbed him. Ted, however, managed to escape, and he ran down the hall. Soon Jimmy was lying on the ground in the dark room, and the witch bolted the door from the outside. Someone stepped on Jimmy’s hand, and he stood up. The sound of hundreds of little boys crying filled his ears. Jimmy couldn’t stand it. “Enough!” he cried, but no one heard, and the crying continued. Suddenly, above him, a giant light turned on, and the room was illuminated. The crying stopped. Jimmy looked up. The room was circular, and near the vaulted ceiling, there were narrow passages lining the wall. A wailing sound was coming from these passages, and they grew louder and louder each second. Then, from each passage came a wispy looking ghost carrying a platter of food. They circled the room and dropped the food on the floor, and all the little boys fought hard for each scrap. When Jimmy observed the ghosts, he could see that they were all young boys like himself. One of them looked almost exactly like him. The ghost stopped and peered into Jimmy’s face. “What’s your name?” he asked.

                “Jimmy Bominsky,” Jimmy replied.

                “Bominsky? Who’s your father?”

                “James Bominsky.”

                The ghost’s mouth and eyes opened wide, then he put his hand to his face. “James Bominsky is my brother,” he said. “I am your uncle, Charles Bominsky.”

                Jimmy was stunned. Of all the places to meet his long lost uncle!

                “Oh, Uncle Charles, won’t you please help me out of here?”

                Uncle Charles sighed, then began to laugh, then began to cry.

                “Uncle Charles!” Jimmy cried. “Please! I need your help! Isn’t there a way out of here?”

                “There is,” said Uncle Charles. “It is through the passage which I came out of, but that leads to the ghost dungeon, and there is no way out of there.”

                “Oh, but there must be another way!” cried Jimmy, more to himself than his uncle.

                “I’m afraid not,” said Uncle Charles. “The only other doors are the one you came in through, and that takes a special key to open, and besides that, there’s only …”

                “What?” asked Jimmy.

                Uncle Charles leaned in close, to make sure no one else could hear him. “The death door,” he said.

                At the sound of these words a shiver ran down Jimmy’s spine. “What’s the death door?” he asked.

                “Well, you see,” said Uncle Charles, “not every boy that comes in here survives. Actually, none of them do. Many die from starvation, others from illness or lack of air. And when they die, the death door opens and the dogs come through.”

                “The dogs?” asked Jimmy, remembering the vicious brutes he had seen in the courtyard.

                “Yes,” said Uncle Charles. “They come in and take the dead bodies, and bring them out to the courtyard where they devour them.”

                Just then, the sound of creaking was heard. Uncle Charles looked, grew very frightened, and flew back up through the passage. Jimmy looked, and saw part of the wall lifting away from the floor, displaying a ramp that led down into darkness. All of the boys in the room backed away to the opposite end of the room in fear. The hideous black dogs came running up the ramp and into the room, barking and snarling viciously. Jimmy watched in horror as they dragged the dead bodies from the floor. But—could it possibly be?—under the mass of giant back dogs, Jimmy spotted the small white body of Ted, scurrying into the room, and in his mouth he held a large golden key! The little dog jumped up into Jimmy’s arms and Jimmy held him tight. “What have you got, boy?” said Jimmy as he set the dog down. He took the key from Ted’s mouth and held it up. “This is the key. I know it!” He went to the door and put the key in the lock. He turned it and, viola, the door opened. “Run, everybody! We’re free!” The boys rushed headlong for the door. Jimmy and Ted were the first ones through, and they ran down the hall as fast as they could. Then Jimmy remembered, he still needed the antidote! “But where could it be?” he thought. Ted started to bark, as if he had read Jimmy’s mind, and was saying, “I know where it is!” He led Jimmy down a hallway to the right, to a little wooden door with an old, worn-out knob. But suddenly, before Jimmy could put his hand on that knob, a hundred little lightning bolts flashed in front of him, and the witch appeared.

                “So, you thought you could escape, eh? I see you’ve let all my children go free. For that, I’m going to send you to the ghost dungeon.” She raised her wand as if to cast a spell, but then, the sound of wailing was heard. Jimmy turned, and coming down the hall were the ghosts, including his uncle Charles.

“Just wait right there!” cried Uncle Charles.

The witch began to laugh, quietly at first, but then it grew louder till it reached a most horrible cackle that pierced Jimmy’s ears like the screeching of tires. “You think you can stop me? You, shapeless, lifeless clouds that you are? No, as long as I have my wand, all of you are under my command!”

And at that, Ted—the boldest little creature that ever stood by the side of man—ran and jumped headlong at the witch, grabbing the wand right from her hand. The witch, in shock, screamed “You rascal!” at the dog. Then, the ghosts, lead by Uncle Charles, began to swarm around her. “No!” she screamed. “You awful children! How dare you turn on me! I shall return! You beware!” The ghosts lifted her off the ground and consumed her in a cloud, inside of which lightning flashes could be seen. The cloud finally dissipated, and in its place was left a rainbow, as bright as if it had been lit by the sun.

Jimmy and Ted went into the room and found the antidote on the shelf. It was easy to spot, as it was marked, “Peomin Antidote,” peomin being the fruit which Jimmy had consumed. They then exited the castle. The dogs, now that their master was gone, were turned to stone, and all of the other little boys were standing on the cloud, wondering how to get down. “What do we do?” they all asked Jimmy. Then Jimmy remembered that he had the witch’s wand. He stuck the wand out and used all the force of his mind, and out shot a lightning bolt. He and the rest of the boys jumped on and they shot right back down to Earth. All the boys returned to their homes, and Jimmy and Ted went on many adventures, using the power of the lightning bolt to save the innocent and to punish those who inflicted harm on those who didn’t deserve it.

               

               

               

By the Fire

An eclectic summer of lust and boredom

Sounds good to me now in this winter of slow-developing truths.

Making way for the snowfall, I plant myself like a rigid peapod before the fire

And correlate the odds of ever sprouting through the silence and the dark.

The lone song I know has turned brittle my bones

And my eyes have gone hollow from the singing of it.

I remember well, all too well, my childhood’s melody,

How lust was freedom goading me on

And boredom the sun-warmed grass’ soft embrace.

On Love

To have kissed, and known that kiss is love

Is to have seen the reflection of what was lost

When you learned to trust and fight for life

Reappear to bless the wreckage,

But from the eye of your beloved,

Is to feel the knowledge of dejection, and more so, love.

In both we shatter the glass that reflects us

And drink our reflections in the wine

Of either the wind’s or her caress.