![\"\"](\"https:\/\/storymind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/Sunday-Section.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The Sunday section, in which I take a break each week from teaching creative writing to share some of my own work.<\/p>\n
This week:<\/p>\n
“Verbatim”<\/p>\n
Have you ever wished To dissect the mind So you put up your web site You stamp out a template You translate their yearnings, Yet a lukewarm reception For years you persist And you never look back But one day you wake So you fall from the sky And you sing with the sirens And the auctioneer’s gavel But one day She dies, So you cradle its head, But it isn’t the money, And it isn’t the insight You keep scratching your head You savor the flavor And the answers you sought So the final few words Melanie Anne Phillips<\/em> *******<\/p>\n From previous weeks:<\/strong><\/p>\n Lulladie<\/p>\n My emotions are dead I\u2019m malleable, movable, to conform to the pressures They reach for the stars, They slice us to mincemeat But nothing is wasted, We huddle in darkness And when the glow wanes, You sleep in your bed But your heartache grows heavy, Melanie Anne Phillips<\/em> *******<\/p>\n The Cosmic Flea<\/p>\n Can you be, a cosmic flea, Or are you doomed to be marooned,
\nyou had something to say
\nto open the heart
\nor capture the day.<\/span><\/p>\n\n
\nor rally the cause,
\nbut your words come up empty,
\nlike stasis on pause.<\/p>\n
\nand type in your Word:
\na mouthpiece for Gurus
\nwho want to be herd.<\/p>\n
\nand auction your ware
\nthat builds them a stairway
\nfor climbing up air.<\/p>\n
\ntransfigure their Muse,
\nwith a medium message
\ndivine in its use.<\/p>\n
\ndevours your spiel,
\nconsumed and digested
\nby The Zombies of Zeal.<\/p>\n
\nin your nebulous quest
\ntoward a furious sound
\nof infinite jest.<\/p>\n
\nas your life passes by
\nto present as reflections
\nnot seen through your eye.<\/p>\n
\nwith a pain in your gut
\nthat your fame is a fake
\nand your mountain, a rut.<\/p>\n
\n’til your life’s on the level
\nto lie in your bed
\nwhile embracing the Devil.<\/p>\n
\na glorious wail,
\nobscuring the site
\nof the Visioner’s Grail.<\/p>\n
\nindentures the Muse
\nand takes a percentage
\nof all whom she screws.<\/p>\n
\nconsumed with the clap,
\nand Her audience cries
\nas it lays in your lap.<\/p>\n
\nas it cradles yours,
\nand you wish you were dead
\n(save the proceeds from tours.)<\/p>\n
\nnor is it the fame,
\nand it never was simply
\nthe name of the game.<\/p>\n
\nof getting there first,
\nnor the common law marriage
\nof better and worst.<\/p>\n
\n’til it coughs up a thought
\nin the hope it tastes better
\nthan those that you bought.<\/p>\n
\nthat burns through your tongue,
\nfor Truth leaves you speechless
\nand breathless and young.<\/p>\n
\nwith obtuse nomenclature
\nturn out to be more
\nof a personal nature.<\/p>\n
\nof the self-focused work
\nprovide answers for me.<\/p>\n
\nCreator, StoryWeaver<\/em>
\nCo-creator, Dramatica<\/em><\/p>\n
\nand lack any resistance
\nto the onslaught of logic\u2019s
\nrelentless persistence.<\/p>\n
\nflexible, still.
\nI succumb with aplomb,
\nas I alter my will<\/p>\n
\nthat weigh on my soul
\nwithout motive, or method,
\nopinion, or goal.<\/p>\n
\nas they stand on our hearts,
\nand they sell us off piecemeal,
\nparcels and parts.<\/p>\n
\nand padlock the door,
\nwhile our blood runs quite freely
\nthrough holes in the floor.<\/p>\n
\ntho\u2019 everything\u2019s lost.
\nSo our blood is recycled
\nto offset the cost.<\/p>\n
\nyet shy from the fire
\nto howl at the moon
\nwith the rest of the choir.<\/p>\n
\nwe stoke it with dreams
\nin hopes that the crackle
\nwill drown out our screams.<\/p>\n
\nand you doze in your chair.
\nYour cushions are comfy
\nand so is your air.<\/p>\n
\nas well as your head,
\n\u2018til you nod away, nod away,
\nnod away, dead.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
\nCreator, StoryWeaver<\/em>
\nCo-creator, Dramatica<\/em><\/p>\n\n
\n‘twixt handle, crank and cog?
\nA particle that rides the waves,
\nupon the cosmic dog?<\/p>\n
\nalong that furry shore?
\nAnd strain against the handle,
\n’til crank turns cog no more?<\/p>\n
![](\"https:\/\/storymind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/11\/Screenshot-2023-11-27-3.58.58-PM.png\")
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