Photo Challenge #50 -Twister– March 3, 2015

Keiko McCartney

Keiko McCartney

Death may be inevitable

But it is not invariable.

In this moment

Irrespective of what precedes

I choose peace.

I choose reflection

And though imperfect

I venture that I am not alone

That there are others

Facing the very same tragedy.


I could panic,

Panic, however, useless

Is occasionally justified

And a man has a right to paranoia

When he is on the verge of exile.

I’ve always had a taste for apples

For the knowledge of forbidden things.

Death is the ultimate taboo.

When my father died

He became invisible, unspeakable

A curse whose very mention

Invoked the sign of the cross.

If the dead are too ill to speak of

You must forever hold your tongue.


Armor cannot guard

Against the weather

When the imposition exists

Within one’s very soul.

I will face today with dignity.

I will face today with curiosity

For that which I cannot control.

I am no longer a child

But every man whatever his preference

Whatever his intellect

Is without question a student.


Today I learn how to die

I imagine it is a lot like riding a bike

And I suspect that I have done it

Many times before

Though I cannot recall the specific dates.






Zdzislaw Beksinski

There is nothing merciful

About these silent departures

For I know neither the source

Nor what manner of apology

Is required to make amends

(if indeed an apology would serve)


Did I return to my fortifications

Withholding my affections

As a miser calibrating his fortune?

Perhaps I never left my tower

And you, curious of the spectacle within

Happened briefly upon my window

Withdrawing only on admission

Did I refuse to come outside

Despite your best intentions?

Or did my nakedness invite rejection?


I do not know if my exertions

Extend beyond my anxieties

If I struggle with individuals

Or merely with the stereotypes

Of society in a more generic sense


Perhaps I think of myself alone

The breath, the progression, the dalliance

Perhaps I am more actor than student

More dreamer than industrialist

I doubt I’ve set one neuron

Outside since conception


I might even be a letter penned

In darkness by one who has concluded

That we are all just machines to freedom

(Can anyone claim autonomy of thought or deed?

Even spontaneity is premeditated for effect )


I am not different enough

To claim another species

And yet all novelty seems

Taboo when first encountered

We learn so much less from success

Success being a script

And so rarely a measure of value

Given the methods of attainment


I think we must be in purgatory

Why else would we repeat

The abominations of our histories?

Perhaps there is a fundamental flaw

In our records, to let the victor alone speak

Does it not assume of gluttony, virtue?


I don’t usually write down my stream of conscious thoughts because usually they don’t make any sense but today that is precisely what I did haha


leonora-carrington-terra-papers-36Leonora Carrington

I do not wish to be your consort

Your protege, your unisex servant

I do not want to stand demure behind, beneath.

In all enticement a blackguard holds

Hostage the bastion of your heart

That I shall never know your face

As it appears before waking

Only the able smiles applied forthwith