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Maelstrom

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A genie and her rock band

(Novel and Short Stories)

Steal Tomorrow

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Murder, Mystery, First Love, and the End of the World

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Pebbles

Small pebbles
leave no epic wake
but their ripples crash like tidal waves
on the shores of those most near,
momentous and monstrous
but small enough to hide in a teacup
(with room to spare).

What do we do
with the pouts and sighs,
the manipulative tears,
when the halo of sudden canonization
distracts from all faults
and turns petty accomplishments
into greatness?

We seek grand explanations
hidden in darkness
to soothe our tortured souls.
But the truth, when it comes
is prosaic
banal
a needless snuffing of a candle
for the most ridiculous of reasons.

And so a favored child
turns to blind end, footnote
a name on a chart
in someone’s tallying of distant kin.

This was written for Sunday Scribblings 2.

4 comments:

Jae Rose said...

This crashed through me like a tidal wave...the last verse particularly was very sobering..how easily we are labeled, tagged, buried, filed away, forgotten when we never seem to have the opportunity to be...although pebbles can be powerful when placed together...

May 31, 2015 at 4:53 AM
Alice Audrey said...

Chilling. I know I won't achieve fame, but must I be a footnote?

June 1, 2015 at 9:05 PM
Ann (bunnygirl) said...

@Alice: How much do you know about your great-grandmother? Or your great-great? How about her sister?

June 1, 2015 at 10:00 PM
blogoratti said...

That was really vivid.

June 4, 2015 at 12:27 PM