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november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind

Category

future

Doors

Indecisiveness leads nowhere,
he says using the motivational
intonation, the one that is
usually reserved for team meetings.
He shows a lack of understanding
for the complexity of doorways.

It’s easy to be confident when you
never opened a portal to hell,
it sounds a bit snappish, his
leadership voice does that to her
sometimes. She lacks the words
to explain that behind the prettiest
doors may lurk unseen horrors,
and a lot of locks do not
necessarily safeguard something precious.

At some point you have to make
a decision, but this time you won’t be alone,
he promises. Not much of an
assurance really, when she is still not
certain, if the door that lead her
to him, might be one she should
have left unopened.

© november child
picture taken with iphone 4s

Unseen

Artificial

I feel like an outcast,
the only one
who hears the screeching of the brakes
and the closing of subway doors,
who smells the staleness of public transportation,
who sees them.

Their eyes glued to sacred phones,
tunnel vision for fear of missing
a chatter, tweet or post on the Net,
blocking the outside world
and any interaction with earphones.

Their faces eerily glowing in the artificial light,
blank masks captured by tiny, colourful screens,
the only apocalyptic event on this train
would be the loss of WiFi connection
or, worse even, a dead battery.

Their fingers wrapped around cups of coffee
like talons around prey,
while the other hand frantically scrolls,
uploads, reloads, downloads files,
and types messages to an invisible audience.

And as I watch the changing light patterns,
flipping back and forth between
grey landscapes and black tunnels flying by,
I am a bit disappointed that
of all the aliens who could have taken over the world,
we were invaded by a bitten into apple.

© november child

photo credit: commons.wikimedia.org

Sacred
The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 276

Seer

One drop of blood
infused in the oily liquid
in his Seer’s bowl
breaks the stillness
of his mind,
uncovering the truth
about  the man.

This drop reveals more
than a shock of silvery curls,
a rich velvet cloak
or the golden amulet,
sign of  an affiliation
with the ruling class,
ever will.

The blood speaks of
burning jealousies,
petty rivalries,
and busy scheming.
A smile lights up the Seer’s face
as an idea echoes in his mind
and his plan takes shape.

 

© november child
photo credit: wallpapercave.com
in response to: The Sunday Whirl Wordle #272
still/busy/curk/silvery/bowl/class/echoing/drop/jealous/velvet/oil/light

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