Category Archives: Broken Hearts

JANICULUM AT A JUNCTURE: Liquid Time A to Z Blog Challenge 2021

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JANICULUM AT A JUNCTURE

LIQUID TIME

“Time brings all things to pass.” ~ ~ Aeschylus

elsEwhen XI

Z ░ V

Z ▒ V

Z▓V

Z∞V

JANICULUM

The Goddess strode into Janiculum through the Gates of Prógramma Spoudón. Her long, unbound hair trailed, tendrils caressing those in her wake. The colors shifted with every other step, taking on the hues of the flowers of the land. Some colors came from other realities, yet none in her presence remarked on the uniqueness. Tall, shapely, skin of a golden-olive hue, caught each eye, young and old alike.

The city-state was festooned with garlands of the sweetest aroma of the scythed. Purple hued feathery fronds, strung through the masses of golds, reds, yellows, and blues. It had taken a harvest to adorn the Goddess Alcyeyx’s walk way to her temple.

Deep genuflections as she passed. The muddy streets stained the linen Himation the populace wore. None were concerned. Their Goddess had arrived. Cheers of “Bless the Winds. Bless the Seas” reverberated throughout. The surrounding mountains concurred in receding echo.

Omens of dire times to come were brushed away with Alcyeyx’s arrival. The Oracle of the Peak wailed her laments to deaf ears once the Goddess arrived. Submitting to the inevitable, the Oracle retreated before the Sun vanished into the ocean. She knew she would return. After.

Rituals were cast, wine flowed, the food was plentiful. Everything was carried to excess. Children with slightly bloated bellies lay fast asleep on straw, patches of grass, and the shorn gardens. They nestled in the land of dreams.

The wine was never ending. Alcyeyx bequeathed that to her people, her devotees, her sacrificial stream. The crowds grew raucous as the skies went black. Fights were few; love making was key. Other lands degraded their festivals, the obscene, to them, rendering of garments, the cries of passions, the coming of more children being placed.

All of those in Janiculum were lost in their revels, as was Alcyeyx. Many women of youth and of age tasted the Goddess’s lips, felt the strong soft gliding over their unadorned flesh. As many came to Alcyeyx as she went to her worshippers. All were left beyond sated.

Except.

Except Alcyeyx, whose inner turmoil, the two sides of her constantly clashing, left part of her drained as the other part was elated. This had been the way of things since their metamorphosis. Two strong essences tugged, one always angry, the other mad. Or so the Angry One crowed.

Ten times ten², or when counting ended, were the battles, the pleas, the promises…

Z always called V out on the promises. For a while after, things would subside.

The call of the winds at the ascending sun found Alcyeyx looking beyond the walls of this beloved stronghold. Janiculum was one of the few things they embraced. Yet, the need for elsEwhen called.

The Goddess lifted her arms, raised her chin, and felt the West Wind blow her hair East.

If anyone had been awake at this juncture, they would surely have noticed the golden-olive hued Kingfisher take to the skies and then…

Khione, Nymph of contempt and snow, took satisfaction in Alcyeyx’s leave-taking.

Now, it was Khione’s time to take.

TRANSITION

The Kingfisher squabbled with itself, as it phased into the void.

TALES OF TALE SPINNING

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©Edward Gorey

TALES OF TALE SPINNING

OR

The A to Z Epics, More or Less

I started Tale Spinning at the beginning of 2011 as an offshoot of BornStoryteller. The latter went more towards non-fiction, rants, comparisons, and observations. Tale Spinning: an experiment in creative writing was the space I needed.
Since then, I’ve gone through periods of both non-stop writing and those “dry” spells, where nothing inspired or motivated me.

Joining the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April 2011 was one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made. I’ve pushed my own boundaries over the ten years, always looking for that “challenge.” Taking risks is stimulating. A lot of what I write is expressing what is burning within me at the moment.

Which is probably why I have trouble continuing plunging into the worlds and characters I’ve built over the years. The roller-coaster upheaval of my life during these last ten years have jaggedly flowed from euphoric to complete and utter numbness. This isn’t a pity party. Just stating the facts, ma’am.

Many bloggers/writers I have “met along the way have become family. What is “Family is Chosen” for $2,000, Alex?” (Man, I miss Alex Trebek. Right now, I am Team Levar Burton to become the new host. Reading Jeopardy Rainbow!). It’d take me the rest of the day (it’s early here) to point you all out, but my thanks and love are hereby sent. I even met the woman I love writing these blog posts during that first A to Z. Present tense, even though we are not together anymore.

Shit happens.

Anyways.

List Time. In case, you know, want to read past (and present) A to Z attempts. Each set starts with A on April 1st of that year. There might be a few preceding posts/teases over the years as I tried out the new voice I was shooting for.

A TO Z POSTS

Here’s something not A to Z that I’d love to get your feedback/comments. I keep getting drawn back to it on an emotional/mental level, but have not added a thing to it in quite a while. These were written during the summer of 2011.

The Kitsune-Mochi and Fox Saga

INTERVAL: Liquid Time A to Z Blog Challenge 2021

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INTERVAL

Liquid Time

A to Z Blog Challenge

“Time is the fire in which we burn.” ~ ~ Gene Roddenberry

In between ‘It was…,

and moments before Z popped up.

Valentina + Void = inner jabbering.

Val’s short, shallow breathing climbed expositionally

with the beating pulsations of her heart.

98.8° F (37.1° C) ratcheted to (180°F − 32) × 5/9 = 82.222°C.

Nerves destroyed. Pain<3rd° burns.

Val is charred to basics.

Her chest continued to tighten and contort.

Guts flipped flopped non-stop.

Her mind pinballed.

Valentina’s body became its own Tower of Babel.

And ‘…too much’

Z’s appearance was announced by a pin-point of light.

Z was. Here. There.

Val’s extremes halted to numbness.

Vacant.

Sweat encased her.

She couldn’t move nor speak.

Spitting was out of the question.

She could not do anything of a physical nature.

Z, from There:

“Hello, Valentina.”

Val felt the words enter, not aural vibrations but cerebral contact.

Her head would have snapped back if it could have moved. She lost consciousness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Val came back.

“I’m sorry, Valentina. Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

Z attempted to smile. Val knew the referencing Z was making. She was not amused.

She let Z know that.

“I thought it…Never mind.

Pause

Yes, I know I always...

Pause

Valentina, those language concepts mean nothing, never will mean anything. They have.”

Z halved the distance between them.

“Why?

Please.

What did you promise me?

What did you promise me between kisses, between acts of loves and fucks.

The truth is: I took you in, full trust, full vulnerability.

That you wavered? That you lied to yourself?

I loved you I loved you I loved you!

I love you.

Now, and whatever forever means.

That is why.

Here.

We are here.

Pause

No!

I’ve thrown off Zehara.

I was not a star.

I offered no radiance.

Zehara…she is the past.

It is time to uphold promises.”

Z was there.

Face to face with Valentina.

To Val.

To V.

Z brushed her lips over V’s.

TRANSITION

End of Arc One

Arc Two of Liquid Time begins Monday, April 12, 2021.

Stay Safe and Healthy

Comments are always welcome.

HALCYON POINT OF APOAPIS: Liquid Time A to Z Blog Challenge 2021

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HALCYON POINT OF APOAPIS

Liquid Time

A to Z Blog Challenge 2021

“The moment is not properly an atom of time but an atom of eternity. It is the first reflection of eternity in time, its first attempt, as it were, at stopping time.” ~ ~Søren Kierkegaard

A total absence of light.

Whatever you have thought of as darkness is another lie. The bromides swirl with similes, throwing up black as night, a raven, a ministers cloak, the death card, a void, as pitch, black as the devil’s heart. You’ve lost paradise, unaware that the loss is profound.

Valentina Ceit Marin never gave any thought to the immensity of Eternity. She had been filled beyond any brim with awareness of the moment, framing the moments to come, shedding the moments of the past. Her no looking back attitude has brought her HERE.

Panic is begging to take control. The gut squeezes tight. Both temples are strafing her head, settling into the eyes, the base of the nasal passage. Valentina tried to raise her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. No hand came. Trying again, failure beat a drum. All jointed points of her skeleton were trigger locked. She took in that she could breath, that her eyes still rolled around, that the lids could go up or down.

It was then that she grew aware of what was not outside of her body. She wasn’t standing on any surface. No chains or puppet master strings held her up. She wasn’t floating, drifting around the void of space. Neither weightless nor sense of being. She was THERE.

Panic began to win. She had a mouth but it would not open to release the inside screams. Knowing this was not the her that she was and the her she cultivated, the shell, direct confrontation, the eagerness, the mean moments, the want of things, the dismissals. It was too much.

It was, too much.

It was…

A fracture of light.

Z was. Here. There.

A vast difference of space split them apart. The were opposites in depth.

Sweat filtered through Val’s skin. It beaded and dripped from her brow, coated her arms. Another aspect that was not Val.

She could not do anything.

“Hello, Valentina.”

FLEETING: Liquid Time A to Z Blog Challenge April 2021

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FLEETING

Liquid Time

A to Z Blog Challenge

“Time is a companion that goes with us on a journey. It reminds us to cherish each moment, because it will never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we have lived.” ~ ~ Captain Jean-Luc Picard

Zero hour. Day. Era. Epoch. Eon. Aeon.

Z subdivides along a non-unilinear line. Stopping milliseconds to absorb, dispel, bask.

Those are the fragments where a thought filters through.

Z assembles the pieces. Z experiences every emotional spectrum idea, searching for

Love.

Z does not believe in love. Love, to Z, equates to Pain.

Pain is a constant. Love=Pain never has/is/will be love ≠ pain. It is exact. For Z, it is exact.

There are no approximates.

Any/every instance Love touches Z is followed by an infinite drop.

Z is lost.

Inside, Z is lost in gathering specifics. The pure, unwavering distillation of Z’s perception of Love.

The amassing is complete.

Z stretches the limits of time to compact and keep.

The next second arrives.

Without the pain association. Z is blocking out the aftermath, the thrown away aspect, the being left, unnoticed, unwanted.

Another point arrives. The whole splinters.

Z

TRANSISTION

NEW!!!! TALE SPINNING is also a Podcast!

I plan to start recording MY reading of my posts. Maybe by 5/12/2021. Knowing me, maybe 2022. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the narration.

You can find Tale Spinning on:

Spotify iTunes PocketCasts Breaker Google Podcasts RadioPodcast (last two awaiting verification).

Tale Spinning, the Podcast, will include past series, interviews, and more.

Please Support Tale Spinning.

You can subscribe on any of the above platforms.

Comments are always welcome.

ElSeWHEN: Liquid Time A to Z Blog Challenge April 2021

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ELSeWHEN

Liquid Time

A to Z Blog Challenge

“Forever is composed of nows.” ~ Emily Dickinson 

Z thought as a black whole.

Z experienced everything at this/that moment without color.

Z tasted in shadows.

From the shadows came terror.

Z was a variant of a virulent tinnitus strain. Z was at a fixed point of -50 dB.

Z is the shriek that passes through the outer, middle, and inner structures, vibrating into an E Tube.

Traveling is a poor word of choice for Z in this state of being. Peripatetic is more to the point. Z travels from place to place, being to being, dimension by gradation of planes of existence

Z connects.

There are multitudes of levels of every emotional path that any can experience . Z knows.

There are a multitude of levels of pain. Hundreds of millions of points of view involving hundreds of millions of junctures, phases, factors, accents, factors. Z connects to All. All. All.

Z is at zero hour.

TRANSISTION

THE LAB

FLOAT POD con

“Stop fussing. Stop. I’m fine.”

Pushes hand away.

I said stop!”

Cursing, the medic walks out.

“Karen, there is nothing I can add to my statement.”

Debris is being removed. New equipment is being installed.

“Look, Val. Standard BS to make them happy. I know you. I know. Knew, Tyson. Just tell me what you edited out.”

Glare met stare.

“I do not have all day, Dr. Fill in the fucking blanks.”

Takes glass. Sips water. Another sip.

“VAL!”

“Tyson didn’t screw up. I did not screw up. He was being an ass, as usual.”

Pause.

“Fine. You heard the Banshee call. You heard the escalation. Then the cessation. The console sparked. I woke up on the steps, behind the railing.” Sips. “No, again, I have no idea how I wound up there. The pain in my back, my battered face? Stairs. Boom.”

Stare.

“Why did you break Tyson’s fingers?”

Pause.

“I…”

“Why did you break Tyson’s fingers?”

Pause.

Head turns. Sees FP. Nothing. Still in one piece.

Head still turned away.

“Jackass was reaching to mute. The data coming in and Tyson thought he was going to the mute button. He reached too far. He was going to incinerate the inside of the pod.”

“And?”

“He couldn’t hear me, damnit. He couldn’t hear me call out. I went for his wrist. My eyes were vibrating. Wrist. Hand. Fingers. I needed to stop him. So, I did.””

“And?”

Staring at the Float Pod. Shrugs shoulders.

Heartbeats pass.

“OK.”

Nod of head.

A chukka boot approaches.

Hand taps her shoulder.

“Dr. Marin? I need you to come with me, ma’am.
Her head turns to the other woman.

“Go with him, Valentina. Go. I’ll be with you again. Soon.”

Dr. Valentina Marin leaves what’s left of the lab.

She does not turn to look back.

THIS IS THE DAY Z DOES NOT DIE

CONTINUANCE: Liquid Time A to Z Blog Challenge 2021

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CONTINUANCE

Liquid Time

AtoZ Blogging Challenge

“My past is everything I failed to be.” ~ Fernando Pessoa

Z writhed through bouts of slaughter.

An eternal splintering of that moment(s).

Here, the push. The electricized rail. The train.

Here, the backhand. The kick. The stairway. The neck.

Here, the rifle. The scope. The contract. The hit.

Here, the airlock. The depressurizing. The ejections.

Here, the bolt, the honed Bowie, the smile.

The neck. The liver. The heart

The blood. The blood. The bisection.

Trespassing under sea, through the stars, across the multiverse, homes, hovels, a maze of mazes.

Never ending.

There was no end.

Z slayed everywhere.

It was too much.

It was too much.

It was, too much.

TRANSITION

Ad infinitum.

body locked killing blows body locked ejected released hired passion hunted hunter poisoner stalker ripper strangler clown giggling gouger monster butcher mad-man/woman self-defense abuse insanity cold-stone drugged drunk protection protecting pro-active suicidal sadistic black widow peeping tom cowboy vampire torturer exsanguination executioner

Z’s hands dripped red.

Z became another moment.

Z’s eyes closed, teeth clenched, long exhalation.

Z collapsed into Fetal Prime.

This is the day Z doesn’t die

Z was/is/will be

Sunday, April 2, 2021: A list!

Monday, April 5, 2021: D

Comments/feedback are always welcome.

BACKWARDS: Liquid Time AtoZ Blogging Challenge, 2021

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BACKWARDS

Liquid Time

A to Z Blogging Challenge 2021

Shard by shard we are released from the tyranny of so-called time.” Patti Smith

FLOAT POD c

Z is not in a raster format.

Yet, pixelated within the FP (Float Pod), Z is obscured. There are no filters, graininess, or fuzziness. Z is not enlarged in the chamber; more the reverse. In the perverse total dark, floating on chemical laden liquid, Z contemplates a linear spiral.

It began once the Pod door was shut, blocking out the lights of the room, a total eclipse of fluorescent tube bulbs.

Until.

Awareness fades with ease. Z has/is/will experience(d)(ing) the mindful disassociation gift that the FP offers. Not a womb as others had/have/will deride(d) it. Z dives freely, embracing the dissolution, not surrendering to it. Z does not know where the absolute certainty in the purity of the Float Pod comes from. Yet, it is there.

Z vibrates from a pure, righteous (without the trappings), hole in Z’s soul. It is all encompassing.

Unintentionally, Z synch’s into the O². The plunge causes

TRANSITION

z to fracture

every muscle seized trembling to an unheard beat z’s middle twisted into a double fisher man’s knot numbness came taking control z slipped away from z in any tense a full force centrifuge bodily liquids separated density versus density the shell splintering no control no control z found every zeptosecond of z’s life if z hadn’t been in synch there might have have been, is a, or will be a z no warning that

Z fell into a moment. One Z had been able to walk away from. The next moment was just as bad as the preceding one. Z knew the pattern. Z’s fists clenched.

“Damn it!”

THE LAB

Schrödinger’s Float Pod sat in it’s birth.

This is the day Z doesn’t die

Z was/is/will be

So the journey begins. Backwards, like the Ghost of Christmas Past. 

I want to give thanks to MAXIME LAGACÉ of Wisdom Quotes. 

Yes, the internet is full of links to a plethora of quote sites. I’ve cherry picked the specific ones that have wound up on past posts. This time, Wisdom Quotes made it easy with one stop shopping. Uh, I mean copying. Yeah. That.  There’s a powerful story behind the Wisdom Quotes site. More power to Maxime Lagacé.

Special note: If you are seeing a Kurt Vonnegut “Slaughterhouse 5” feel to this, it’s a semi-conscious choice. Z is by no means Billy Pilgrim, and I am not trying to plagiarize Mr. Vonnegut’s amazing book in any way. A beginning homage? I’ll plead the fifth on that one. With Continuance (April 3rd), Z begins the tread to elsewhere.

Please leave any comments &/or feedback below. It is always much appreciated.

C you tomorrow.

LIQUID TIME PATH

Liquid Time: a Portent

Absolute 31,536,000

Too Often: a Villanelle

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Too Often, by S. Nager

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart

Be dismissed, discarded, a second thought.

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

 

 

Love fractures, splits, by an uncaring dart

Shattered pieces, a broken soul is taut

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart.

 

 

With love’s ending comes a yearn to depart

Disregarded love that never was sought

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

 

 

Each time, within your grasp, a fresh new start

Drifted, drifted, gone, even though you fought

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart.

 

 

What was conceived more emotion not smart

Gave of yourself love could not be caught                                                 

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

 

 

Dreams of fidelity, hopes to restart

All dashed and ignored from a life so fraught,

Walk away. Walk away. Alone. Apart.

Now hide every piece of your broken heart

 

***************************************************************************

Author’s Note:

I used the poetic form of a Villanelle for the above poem. This is my first attempt as this was new, to me. Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” is a prime example of this poetic style. It is a 19 line poem with 5 Tercets (3 lines) that follow an ABA rhyme pattern, and one Quatrain (4 lines) to end the poem. Its rhyme pattern is ABAA. The last two lines of the Quatrain are the Refrain (which I crafted first) and they are used in the 2nd to 5th Tercet, intermittently. Thomas use of the 10 syllables per line harks to Elizabethan/Shakespearian Sonnets.

This was a bit challenging at first. I’m glad I tried it. I’ll probably do more, as I did with Sonnets over the years.

Remember: comments are always welcome.

Cold Hearted John Meadows

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My name is John Meadows, at least, that’s what it says on my birth certificate. At this moment, I’m not sure if that is even true.

I woke up in a bedroom. It was an unknown space. Except, as I lifted my head up off the pillow, I noticed a picture that looked familiar. I stood, walked over to it: it was flush with the wall. An outdoor moment in time. There was a man, and a woman. They held each other, big smiles on their faces.

The man leaned on a vast gnarled tree. Instead of branches, It looked as if seven tree trunks wound around each other, an abstract weave of latticework wood. The leaves were thick, a dark shade of green that looked almost like they were black. They hung over the couple like a frame.

The woman had her head resting on the man’s shoulder. His hair fell to his collar, so dark that at first, I thought it looked like it was cut out of the photo. Her hair was lighter, a mixture of golden brown and red. I remembered that it was called Auburn. I don’t know why I didn’t realize that at first. Yes, Auburn-haired, long, it fell down and over his chest, making his torso look like it disappeared as well.

The photo bothered me. Her eyes sparkled when the shot was taken. His eyes held little to no reflection. I looked. His didn’t, even with the sunlight spotlighting where they stood. Her eyes, the tilt of her head, her smile: there was life. He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. They were flat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a free-standing full-body mirror to my left. It stood at a tilt near white folding slat doors. I shuffled my way over to it. I could not remember what I looked like, nor who I was. Maybe, I thought, looking at the reflection, things would come into focus. My heart began to accelerate, chest tightening, and it was getting difficult to breathe. I hadn’t been aware of breathing before this. I was now.

Coming into full view, I felt my head had received something smashing into it. It hurt like hell. I had to touch my head. It felt like bone shattered. I checked. It felt solid. But the pain. It was like a steel bar was slammed against my forehead.

A steel bar? Why did I…no, more a bat? Baseball? No, no. A baseball. Yes, a baseball hurtling to me, not even registering that I needed to move, to duck, do something. But it was too fast. I was too slow. I was up, then nothing. It felt just like that, although I didn’t know why. I still don’t know why I felt that way when I stepped in front of the mirror.

Yes, I was the man in that photo, even though I did not remember that. It was clear upon viewing, my eyesight was waving, no floaters, no film distortion over the irises. I looked at myself in the mirror, then over to the photo. Goosebumps paraded across my spine.

Turning, I took in the rest of the room. White minimalism in paint and fabrics. Same with my pajama pants. I noticed, then, that I had no shirt on. A look in the mirror traveled down; before, I was solely intent only on my face. My chest was hairy but not matted. Three parallel deep pink scars ran from my left armpit to just past the bellybutton. An inny. They didn’t hurt as much as throb. Noticing them did not help my rapid breathing and heart rate.

The next moments are still a blur. I know I looked around: the place had been tidy when I awoke. Now, drawers, men’s clothing, papers littered the white. All the bed linen was on the floor. The sliding slat doors were open wide, showing a closet that was only half full. I took this all in, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. I felt something hard and looked down. I had a metal lockbox in my hands. My breathing shallowed, and I felt myself calm down to regular human beats. At least, what I thought were normal.

There was no lock to have to break into. The lid swung up with ease, showing the mound of papers it carried. I riffled through the envelopes, unfolded the various papers, and only stopped when I found a Birth Certificate. Mine, I have assumed, until someone tells me differently. 

My name is John Meadows.

If you are listening to this tape, then most likely I am dead. Or too far away for any meaning of living or dead is inconsequential. This is the story of what happened from that moment of waking, clueless to everything that had meaning to me. I know that the woman in the photo was Jean, my partner. I know she no longer…is here. Where? At this time, I still do not know how to answer that.

Whoever you are, whenever you are, do yourself and loved ones a favor.

Do not stand under the leaves of that massive, gnarled tree.

It is not the Tree of Life.