Psychedelic. #RDP

Photo via Free Photo Library.

Poem (C) Pamela Schloesser Canepa, 2019

The sky covers me

With a psychedelic blanket

To cover my eyes

And warm me.

To soften the edges

Of today’s worries.

Colorful and soft,

Just like the old blanket

Grandma once made.

Grandma, with the long hair

And constant incense smell,

The tickles and hugs,

The outdoor lunches,

Afternoons with goats and dogs.

Grandma, an explosion of love

And acceptance,

A psychedelic canvas, blanket, shirt, or sky. Colors that smile.

Love.

*Visit http://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com for more entries, and follow to receive the daily prompt.

“Well, Eventually….” An Alien Observes.

 

aerial shot of buildings
Photo by Benjamin Suter on Pexels.com

(c) 2019 by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

In the 1970s, the FBI learned to categorize deviant behaviours and coined the term “serial killer.”  It is part of human history, detailed beautifully in the Netflix series, Mindhunter. 

Who knew that eventually, hateful behaviors and hate crimes against others would be encouraged, that humans would willingly destroy other humans.  Why am I even here?  Oh, I am here to categorize and understand their behaviors.  It is a disturbing job.

Sometimes, it seems they will destroy themselves.  Understanding their motives seems pointless.  Sure, greed is one of the hugest motives I’ve observed, but others just don’t make any sense: the desire for the perfect cheeseburger,  the most beautiful house….Wait, those fit under hunger and, um, pride.  No, not just hunger, but, the word is addiction.  They aren’t just feeding hunger, but rather, they are seeking certain tastes that make them feel a certain way.  Yes, that’s it.  And they will knock each other down and/or lie to each other to fulfill these wishes.  But greed, it truly is the worst.

I feel that this job is finally getting to me, but I suspected it would, eventually.  It has now been three human years.

09-24-2020

Ambassador “Darwin” M2ZZTTHHem,

    of the planet ZZTTaton, Visitor 14,983.

Shuts down his communication device.  Stares at the Megan Fox poster on the wall and then the Rembrandt painting.  Tears off his Rolex watch.

Shakes his head.  “I need to burn these possessions and go get lost in the jungles in Brazil.  Maybe they won’t find me.”

 

 

“Sham.” Out of the Mouths of Babes…

“Here, honey.  Hand me the pillow sham.  Your hands are clean, right?”

“The what?”  Little Geoffrey asked.

“This is a pillow sham.  It covers the pillow.”  Shawna took it from him and inserted the pillow.

“Daddy said your diet is a sham.  I don’t get it?”  Geoffrey scratched his head.

Shawna grimaced, trying not to react.  “Okay, perhaps it is.”

“So what is a sham?”

She fluffed and smacked the pillows.  “It covers the truth.  Like this covers an ugly pillow.”

“Your diet covers the truth?”

She turned to him.  “I guess so.”  She laughed.  “It’s a sham.  Just like your dad’s and my marriage.”

This is my entry response for the Ragtag Daily Prompt, word of the day: sham.  Intrigued?  Visit https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/08/08/rdp-thursday-sham/

two panel painting of palm plant
Photo by julie aagaard on Pexels.com

We’re all Time Travelers. (A Passage) #RDP

Colorado1991.20741_1324079669700_5583546_n   circa 1991.

(c) 2019, Pamela Schloesser Canepa

We hurtled to here

through space and time,

to a future that back then,

we couldn’t see.

 

Who knew we’d watch TV on our phones,

now we’re never really alone,

with friends halfway across the earth,

but what are they really worth?

 

I go back and remember,

picking up a phone

playing songs on a record

when I felt too alone.

Calling friends to meet up,

getting ready to go out,

instead of dressing up

for a photo for my phone.

 

Today is an introvert’s dream.

Post your status every day.

Some will respond, like or laugh,

others  ignore or stay away…

and no one need really care.

 

Who knew it would all be so simple one day?

You can fight with friends by text

find online who will be next;

In a blink, life goes on.

 

Who knew it would all be so simple one day?

I used to write poems by the sea when my heart sank, now,

we post heartbreaks and rants on our wall.

I’d gladly take a passage  back to those days.

 

 

 

Melt (Out of the Mouths of Babes) #RDP

 

Sandwich, Lunch, Grilled Cheese, Meal Photo via Pixabay, (c) Dustytoes

“Mama, when cheese melts, is it still cheese, or is it bread and cheese?”

“Yes, hon, the cheese is still cheese, but now it’s even more enjoyable. ”

“I love bread AND cheese, and tomatoes!”

Mrs. Vincent put two slices of tomato on his sandwich.  “You should! Now they’re all better than they were before. Such a great combination!”

“Add pepper, please?”

Mrs. Vincent added a dash of pepper.  “Is that just right?”

“Yeah.  It’s not as boring now.  Is that why America was called a ‘melting pot’?”

“It still is my dear. Remember why you love it.  Don’t let anyone tell you different. ”

(c) Pamela Schloesser Canepa, 2019.

 

*Follow ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com to receive the daily prompt!

Lofty thoughts. #RDP

Nature, Landscape, Kaçkars, Mountains

Photo via Pixabay.

“Lofty thoughts” by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

When I was a child, I seemed to have a pleasant ability to lift myself out of my current reality and imagine things that would take me away from boredom or desperation.  It may not totally fit the definition of ‘lofty,’ but this is what I think of when I hear that word.  Some of the later experiences were not all positive as a teen, but I’ll focus on the ones that “lifted me up.” I only remember a few incidents, and I don’t know why.  Are they all that I can remember?  Perhaps they were all related to dreams, and having such a vivid imagination, I of course would see wild things when my subconcsious took control?  I read somewhere that the conscious actually does control the subconscious.  Still, some dreams mean nothing other than giving a vivid picture to some feeling, fear, or hurt that already goes on inside.  That’s what I believe, anyway.

  1. We were on a cross country trip when I was four, maybe five.  It was early morning, and I looked up in the sky to see that the sun was coming out, and the moon was trying desperately to fit itself, squeeze itself,  back into the curtain of darkness that was already fading away on one side of the sky.  It had to try quickly before the sun chased all the darkness away.  I have a feeling I probably dosed off again, because this situation never resolved itself before my eyes.
  2.  I was about eight and attending a summer camp where we tried to get closer to God.  I was falling asleep at bedtime, and some noise woke me up;  it was like I felt myself fall down back down into my body from where I had been floating.  Holy smokes! Did I have the ability to levitate at age eight?  No, it was more likely a vivid imagination, a dream so real I had the sensation of floating up until I awoke out of it.  And no, it wasn’t a near death experience, either.

The image of the sun and moon seemed so real to me, I  did not believe it was a dream.  Some dreams seem so real because they are trying to tell you something, for me, that I was compelled to try to bring things to life with my words. I want to make it as real for you as it seems for me.  I’m still trying, depositing a stone of reality within every flood of fiction.

*You can join the daily prompt fun by following ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com and you can view other entries to this challenge at https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/07/16/rdp-tuesday-lofty/

“Take a Hike.” #RDP #amwriting

(c) Pamela Schloesser Canepa

John had been through this before.  No one understood how he processed things.  This was his third foster home in a row.

His foster dad, Mr. Biggins, spoke in a strange way., but John really wanted to know the workings of this new household and had a lot of questions.

Mrs. Biggins had shown John to his room.  There were two smaller children in the home, but John got his own room.  Mrs. Biggins was busy cooking dinner one day when John asked why there wasn’t much toilet paper.

“Oh, we try not to use too much paper.  It’s Mr. Biggins’ rules, you know.”

John went to ask Mr. Biggins, because sometimes he needed a lot more than what was rationed to him each morning.

“Take a hike,” Mr. Biggins said.

“But, but, that doesn’t answer my question.  Sir,” John added politely.

“Learn to use less.  Conserve.  Now, I’ve answered you.  Go take a hike.”

So, being a person who tried to do just as he was told, John did.

John suffered for a year in that home, with people who did not understand his needs.  Finally, he was adopted by a loving family.  The Servos lived in the big city.  John looked down at his hiking books.  No woods to explore as he used to do for hours when living with the Biggins, where no one cared that he was gone for hours as long as he was back before dinner.  He disliked Mr. Biggins moodiness, but just kept to himself most of the time so as not to disturb the man.  Hiking had been his solace, and summers had provided a lot of education in nature.

“Would you mind if I take a hike?” John asked Mr. Servo, longing for some movement and fresh air.

“Well, that’s an interesting thought,” Mr. Servo replied.  “There’s this place a couple blocks away with excellent gyros.  And the doc said walking would good for my heart. Come on!  We can talk on the way.”

John smiled.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk much, but Mr. Servo had a friendly, loving aura about him.  It might be nice for once not to have to walk alone.

***The Ragtag Daily Prompt is given daily in the form of one word.  Writers take it from there.  This story was just short of 300 words.  I hope you have enjoyed it!  See other responses or learn about this challenge at https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/07/12/rdp-friday-hike/

 

low section of man standing on autumn leaves

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