Oh, humans! I can’t help but think of how they used to be. Before those final wars they wrote such literary treasures. But, now as everything’s destroyed they barely read.
The last remaining traces of their languages are crude fashions of signing; the chest beating, mindless dancing sort. We, the gnomes, have tried to get more intelligible messages across but it always proves quite useless in their state of mind.
Through the fires that still rage in nuclear inferno my race has saved a single human book. We keep it for nostalgia sake.
Shakespeare for Dummies was the last writing on ordinary paper. E-Readers, computers and the internet had replaced all repositories for knowledge. When the electromagnetic pulses rang out from hydrogen fusion… everything vanished. Microchips, in all their superiority and clout, were fried forever.
The gnomes had never given in to technology to such degrees. Paper may have been a tree-killing ecological disaster but we held it dear. It was the death of nature, but still nature: something to remind us of the forests that were no more.
It is indeed a comfort one can only appreciate whilst living under rocks outside a vast apartment complex. That was how we dwelled for years and years, picking up old tomes from human landfills.
At times it seemed they threw away whole libraries as technology progressed. It was a time of great learning for the gnomes. Through self-help, and text-books we gained insight a world that had for too long shadowed us in ignorance.
Psychology allowed for mental anguish to be rationalized. Literature gave us flowing spirits to overcome diversity. Carpentry gave us ever greater space for books.
Yet, the forces bringing such enlightenment would ultimately destroy it.
The gnomes got hold of the last magazines in print. They told of an arms race and diplomatic failures. It seemed from all we read that mankind’s greatest weakness was its greatest strength. Jealousy, ambition and logic propelling them beyond the moon and stars had power for an undercurrent. This power could never allow for satisfaction of any variety. One human always had to be better, stronger than another.
We were always weary of these excesses we saw within their works. Gnomes had always wanted the best for all earth’s creatures. In every action, we weighed its impact such, never planting or taking or polluting too much.
But, in that sense, we were not confrontational enough to stop the humans; that would be our own great failure. Fallout and black skies remind the gnomes of this every time they take a look outside the human homes they now inhabit.
I hope to Gob we don’t turn out like them. Already I see with the younger ones more violent games. The scarcity of resources has led to hoarding, feuding in adults…
But the book stands as a symbol. Its pages represent the dangers of our greed and unchecked passion. Technology is more than simply progress; it is using what improves our lives and not what kills us faster. I hope the violent ones see truth in this.
Somebody's Peep .
I wanna be somebody's peep
And have our pics strewn over Facebook.
I wanna be somebody's peep
And text until my thumb's feel sore.
I wanna be somebody's peep
And not looked over on the News Feed.
A Thousand Wars
I'm the veteran of a thousand wars:
On hearts;
On minds;
On drugs;
On crime.
But I've never marched in a parade
Or worn a uniform.
I'm the veteran of a thousand wars:
For land;
For gold;
For rights;
For oil.
Yet, I've never rode a tank
Or murdered in cold-blood.
I'm the veteran of a thousand wars:
In air;
In sea;
In gas;
In space.
Though, I don't cry out in dreams
And function in society.
I'm the veteran of a thousand wars -
New ones coming every day.
Question Mark .
I wrote myself to sleep
and dreamed I was a question mark
composed of "who's" and "how's"
and "mights" and "maybes" -
Uncertain things we'll never know
but ask to pass the time instead.
I wrote myself to sleep
and dreamed I was a question mark
Devoid of any answers
In my curvature;
My bum an empty dot
With no expressions to be seen.
I wrote myself to sleep
and dreamed I was a question mark
cousin of the exclamation mark
yet less excitable,
more introspective
in my posture. Ah, sweet paper poems.
Fox News has accused the funding of the mosque near ground zero of being from entities such as "Iran" and the "Taliban."
It's largest contributor, Al-Waleed bin Talal, however is also the second largest shareholder in Newscorp which owns Fox News. Yet, on their Morning Show they keep using the analogy of "following the money." Do they not expect people to actually do it?
If their viewers actually did, they would wonder why they accused one of their largest shareholders of financing radical madrases and aiding the Palestinians monetarily.
He indeed donated $17,000,000 to the Palestinians. And whereas, I see nothing wrong with helping people in such horrid conditions, Fox News has made a point of vilifying them as terrorists and supporting Israel against all logic.
So if you watch Fox News you're giving Al-Waleed bin Talal more money to use for helping Palestinians and building Islamic centers. I might have to watch more. And I guess that's the greatest irony. .
Normal? .
Is it normal if I wake up screaming
In ascension with my talons gleaming?
Is it healthy all this dreaming
As through the clouds I’m streaming?
Perhaps a breeze can be redeeming;
While the ozone’s gently steaming?
Oh, what’s this below that man is scheming
To affect the life that once was teeming?
Decency .
Decency’s a word to me and you
But religion to the privileged few
Who rape and bend it to their view
Until the world is fucked anew
And hands and hearts are led askew
Waiting for their queue
Within a simmering shit stew. What scatological fun, eh?
Gnome Company; Always on the run Destiny is the garden's rising sun Oh Hafrank was born with a flower in his hand Behind a root he'll make my final stand That's why they call it gnome company And you can't deny Gnome company Till the day we die Till the day we die
Announcer: This episode of Gnome Company is brought to you by the new Rockstar energy drink flavor Hate; it’s poison, 100% pure poison… with trace amounts of high fructose corn syrup.
Krista is sitting on the couch writing a sign
Hafrank: Hey mummy, whatcha doing?
Krista: I’m getting ready for the big mosque protest at Ground Zero.
Hafrank: You mean the one that stands against everything the constitution states explicitly?
Krista: That’s the one!
Hafrank: Are you sure you want to do this? The other gnomes will laugh at me.
Krista: They can laugh at freedom all they want; that won’t stop it!
Hafrank: But you’re protesting against freedom! Freedom of religion!
Krista: Hafrank, silly liberal Hafrank; the founding fathers meant freedom of Christian religion. They just didn’t have enough ink to go into it. Socialists stole it to desecrate flags.
Hafrank: Nick, we need you… Krista’s being conservative again.
Nick runs in the living room with duct tape and rope
Nick: Grab her!
Krista gets tied to a chair
Hafrank: Now, let’s begin the intervention.
Krista: Never! Glen Beck is the second coming of Christ! Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reily are his apostles!
Hafrank smacks Krista with his hat
Hafrank: Now, let’s start small. What is the first amendment?
Krista: Freedom to hate Muslims!
Hafrank smacks Krista with his hat
Hafrank: Freedom of religion, speech, the press, assembly and petition.
Krista: Exactly; the freedom to use speech, assembly and press to make everyone else follow my religion.
Hafrank smacks Krista with his hat
Hafrank: This is getting exhausting… I might have to start strangling her with my belt buckle.
Nick: I’ll take over. She has a metastasized anti-Semitism or something, I swear.
Krista: The heebs better stay away too!
Nick: KRISTA!
Krista: I’s just sayin’ whats America’s bin thinkin.’
Hafrank: Not in my garden.
Krista starts chewing at her ropes
Nick: Hey, stop that!
Krista: I’ll do what I want!
Krista hops in her chair toward a boom box; Born in the USA by Bruce Springsteen starts playing.
Nick: Muslims are born in the USA too!
Krista: No mosque, no way!
Nick and Hafrank start chasing Krista around the room as she hops in her chair with the boom box.
Hafrank: Krista, stop, you’re only prolonging your intervention!
Krista: No mosque, no way!
Nick: That isn’t even grammatically correct!
Krista: Grammar’s for queers!
Hafrank grabs hold of her chair leg but doesn’t manage to slow down Krista
Hafrank: Krista… this is… really bumpy. Please… stop.
Krista: I’m hopping my way to Ground Zero. The people behind the mosque project are the same people who took down the twin towers!
Hafrank: Where… do you… get… such… tripe… you Stalinist twit.
Krista: Hey now, no need to bring sexism into this.
Hafrank: I said twit, not-
Announcer: Looks like it’s time for a commercial break!
Sarah Palin: Hello I’m women’s role model and super smart gal Sarah Palin. Are you tired of mosques in your community? Then you’ll love my Sarah Palin brand torches; they burn everything from non-Christian religious centers to parts of the original constitution! Find them at any Wal-Mart in your vicinity! A portion of the proceeds may go to my fund to help eliminate wildlife.
Announcer: I’m pretty sure that commercial was worse than anything Hafrank was about to say… And I’m being told I’m fired again. Back to the show twats.
Krista is at Ground Zero with the other protestors and Hafrank clinging to her chair leg
Krista: We must all storm the construction site! There is no other way! We must not desecrate this ground!
Hafrank: But we’ll fall into a hole and get run over by bulldozers if we do that!
Krista: We must not fear liberty! In the words of Patrick Starfish: give me liberty or give them death!
Hafrank: That was Patrick Henry.
Krista: Your elitist east coast banter won’t intimidate us! In the words of Ham from Toy Story: A mosque divided cannot stand!
Hafrank: I think you meant Abraham… Lincoln.
Krista: One ham is good as another! Charge!
Hafrank: Some have those gross chewy spots…
All the protestors fall into a hole and get run over by bulldozers.
Hafrank: What did I tell them?
Krista: My torso divided cannot… breathe. Ugh.
John Travolta: Cannonball!
Hafrank: Johnny, nooo!
John Travolta jumps in the hole; gets run over by another bulldozer
We cannot rationalize
Our level of devotion
To its cause, continuation
Nor will we ever fathom
The terrors, hardships
We will undergo –
In aches and pains
In broken bones
In endless suffering
In death itself.
"Opposition to the center by prominent politicians and other public figures in the United States has been covered extensively by the news media in Muslim countries. At a time of concern about radicalization of young Muslims in the West, it risks adding new fuel to Al Qaeda’s claim that Islam is under attack by the West and must be defended with violence, some specialists on Islamic militancy say." - MSNBC
It was a Tuesday night and my girlfriend Lena and I were watching TBS. Boys and Girls had just ended. We talked about going out to a movie theatre, but decided to stay in. The Wizard of Oz had just started.
I made some popcorn as the opening credits rolled through. The overture was nice but I could hear it just the same from the kitchen.
Around the time the thank you to the young at heart came on, I was on the couch once more. I snuggled up under the covers with Lena. She was in her pajamas but I was still able to smell her perfume from earlier.
We laughed as Hickory said he’d get a statue someday, and Auntie Em told him to not start posing for it now. It was a wonderful scene and I had always admired how the farmhands were represented as the Lion, Tinman and Scarecrow later in the world of Oz.
Lena yawned and put her head in my lap. Dorothy was singing Over the Rainbow before too long. I cried a little, as I saw Lena did too. It was a telling display of youthful innocence and the yearning for acceptance we never quite overcome.
The night seemed almost perfect, though as we lay together. I was sure I’d fall asleep holding Lena before the end.
As my eyes began closing, with Dorothy’s house in the tornado and her landing on the Wicked Witch of the East, I noticed something peculiar. The Munchkins were not crowded around Dorothy but another munchkin. Yet, the dialogue went on the same as ever, with munchkins singing only not singing.
I considered waking Lena up, but before I made a move, the scene was back to normal. Dorothy was walking cautiously down the Yellow Brick Road toward the Wizard. She met the scarecrow much the same, without incident.
Only after giving the Tin Woodsmen his oil did things go awry once more. As the three companions locked arms and went into the distance, I saw what could have been a crane underneath a distant tree. I had heard rumors that it was in fact, a munchkin that had hanged himself, but was much more confident in the theory birds had been let loose in the background during filming.
I never got past the scene with the Lion, however. The movie stopped, with the picture whipping back and forth as if the film ran out. It seemed ludicrous to think TBS still used film broadcasting motion pictures in the digital age. But, what else could it be?
A black and white feature had begun showing. A midget, or little person as I think they’re called now, was attempting to kiss another little person. She fended him off, and moved her lips angrily. There was no sound.
I pressed the info button. It still said Wizard of Oz.
With a gentle shake, growing rougher, I woke up Lena. She looked at the screen half awake as a female little person continued berating her suitor. Another two minutes of such silent action went on, before the man left tearful and dismayed.
The munchkin walked onto a set. It looked similar to the Wizard of Oz. There were cranes and various other birds around him but he shooed them off and climbed up a prop beside a nearby tree. The frames of the film shook as he tied a rope around his neck. They were on the verge of cutting out completely. He dropped.
Lena and I watched the rope strangle the little person for two minutes before she became irate with me. She asked what I had changed to, and why I woke her up to see such barbarity. I pressed info but she still didn’t believe my story.
As she hit me with a pillow and grabbed the remote I continued to explain. It did no good, however. She changed the channel. For a few seconds it appeared as if she’d be watching Lifetime to punish me, but Valerie Bertineli’s face soon flickered back as the movie did before.
The munchkin was still hanging. Lena thought it an elaborate prank I was pulling and moved to the other end of the couch. I blamed the television for my misfortune and pressed the power button on the remote. It didn’t work.
I pulled some extra AAs from a drawer nearby. It seemed to do the trick and the television went off. I breathed a sigh of relief that some of my misfortune had begun to end.
A beer seemed inviting. I got up and walked around the couch into the kitchen. There were a couple left but merely the cheap brand. It didn’t matter. A beer was a beer, especially tonight.
Lena suddenly screamed from the living room. I slammed the fridge door shut and ran out to her. She was pale and very frightened looking but I could not see why.
I went around the couch and held her hand sitting down. She said she had seen the munchkin that had been hanging on the television. I interjected that I had too but Lena quickly cut me off. She said she had seen him behind her, hanging from the coat rack. Only, the coat rack had been a tree.
The absurdity of it hit me and I rolled my eyes. I figured she was attempting to get me back for what she saw as a prank of some sort.
Sarcastically I got up and checked the surroundings. I checked inside the register: no ghost there. I checked behind the television: no ghost there. She caught on quickly to my ruse and threw another pillow at me.
Another hour passed with us having made up. She was asleep on my lap once more and my mind had begun drifting off. I had convinced myself the show before had been a TBS prank in accordance with their old slogan: very funny.
Lena suddenly shook me, however. She had apparently not been asleep and asked me if I had felt a draft behind us. I told her to go back to sleep but eventually, turned my head to see if I saw anything. There was indeed something. A chill ran down my spine and I looked around the room for the source of the sensation.
Nothing appeared the matter around us. Half-jokingly however I looked toward the ceiling fan. There was something there…hanging.
At first I thought it a bird as I had from the film but on lengthier gazing there no mistaking it as human. Lena looked up with me and gasped. She quickly hid her head on top of my chest.
Whatever was on the ceiling fan appeared to be lowering itself toward us. The little person’s asphyxiated contortions soon became visible.
Lena and I huddled together on the opposing side of the couch as the purpled corpse descended to sit down. It was dead. It was certainly dead we told ourselves. Nothing so rotted could be alive.
The munchkins had not even been on set the day they filmed the sequence. There was no way one could hang them self.
We waited, however, afraid to move. The little person stayed still much as he had on screen. No sign of life appeared to possess him. An untold amount of time passed. Lena and I slowly attempted to move off the couch toward the door.
The little person opened his eyes as we did so. There were no pupils, merely white and rolled back inside his head.
With an outstretched arm he pointed to a book we had. I reluctantly went past him to get it, averting my gaze. It was a phone directory and I could not see the intention behind me getting it for him.
I sat in front of Lena to protect her and laid the book in front of the dead little person. Pages flipped without his touch. He pointed toward an address and I understood he meant for us to go there for him. I shook my head yes as a reply and a brief smile took the grotesque outline of his face. He looked like a sort of demonic marionette.
Lena asked what was going on and I told her I had to drive to the address pointed out. She begged me not to go, and not to leave her alone.
After a great deal of arguing we departed together. It was a short drive, ten or twelve miles to an old studio. It was certainly abandoned and in need of repair I thought as I climbed and old gate and helped Lena over.
The munchkin appeared before us again, transparent and decayed as ever. He beckoned us to follow. Lena gave me a look as if to say do we have to but I knew it was the only way to end the ordeal.
We travelled around the studio building in a few minute’s walk. There was no grass and few weeds. The munchkin stopped upon a seemingly uneventful location.
He simply nodded downward and disappeared. I had felt an unexplainable urge to bring a shovel with me to the car, and now with me to the studio and I now understood why. I began digging while Lena watched to see if the police were coming. It was apparent we were trespassing.
I got through dirt, into clay that stuck to my shovel. It was a hard dig. There was nothing soft about the soil.
Only after about four feet did I start to hit something besides rock, clay and dirt. It was a white something that glowed in the moonlight. I kept digging until more white was visible; then shapes; then a form.
Seeing a tiny skeleton, I slowly recalled a comment I had read online a few weeks prior: MGM would have never allowed such a clip to be accidentally included in a family film of The Wizard of Oz's caliber as any death on the set would have required a police investigation and report.
How much of a hurry was MGM in, I wondered? Setting my shovel down, I went to hold Lena. It had been a very long night.
She said two words
More than any other
And in their simplicity
They mixed beauty
With sublime to bring
A universal truth
The world had known
But long forgotten
In its lust for sex: Save someone.
She said two words
That bore her soul
Allowing it to sift
Like sand to bitter hearts
And light a flame
So dimmed by elements and time: Save someone.
She said two words
I pray consume the world someday
In baths of pleasant sun and rain
To wash away the crime
And lives cut short
From ambivalence and bitterness: Save someone. Please.
Six in 10 of those saying Obama is a Muslim said they got the information from the media, with the largest portion — 16 percent — saying it was on television. When told there was absolutely no evidence or truth to the claim, they promptly beat their chests and proceeded to throw leaves around their cave dwellings.
Others claimed Obama was not a U.S. citizen. They were shown birth certificates. Yet, when Fox News told them Hawaii was not a state they merely beat the documents with wooden clubs and discovered fire with them.
A mistaken belief of mankind living with dinosaurs then took hold and all were eaten.
My secret is
I’m narcissistic;
I look in water and
I see myself
Before I see
The rocks and fish.
I gaze into a mirror
And I don’t think of where it came
Just that I look nice, or overweight
Perhaps too pale, or need a tan.
But when I see my photographs
I look away, avert my eyes
Afraid to fall in love
With whom I was before
This consciousness took hold
And made reality. How strange I am.
This is a new segment on Old Spice entitled Profiles on Hate, where I share with you individuals claiming to be intelligent and whose views, whereas not always derived from them per say, possess a cult and growing mainstream following in America. The names have been changed.
Ivan Burgundy (Facebook status):
I thought my generation was jacked up....then I looked at the kids younger than me. The world is screwed now
I know, right? 13 year old boys thinking they're badass and picking fights to prove their "manliness" when their voices haven't even begun to change and 14 year old girls with babies and STDs!!! I mean come on, America, do SOMETHING to make me glad I live here!!!
Whereas possibly true to some extent in the area he frequents, he appears to preoccupied with dismal side of humanity and would not likely give credence to any positive aspects if he did see them. He clearly is not being objective in his argument, and has only used the evidence that reflects his initial hypothesis. A pattern, which will be highlighted further, in the next example, has arose in which his conclusions are driven mostly by emotion; a dangerous precursor to hate.
Keith, I really agree with you. Jesse, agreed. Chris, I know what you mean. Rita, I've been registered to vote and HAVE voted ever since my 18th birthday. I read so many political issues that I swear they're going to give me chronic depression hahaha. And while we're on the subject of how incredibly jacked up America has gotten, a mosque on ground zero???? Seriously???? A memorial to the fallen? Rejected. A mosque for the same ppl who dropkicked our country for no reason? Accepted. WTF AMERICA??????
Ivan has begun to gloss over crucial facts in his passion. The mosque most certainly is not on ground zero but merely near it. For all Ivan's reading he has not allowed facts to change his predetermined conclusions. It is not intellectual in this sense, for him to even read these political issues. He is only using them to further his own views and not, as normal, gain insight. Has anything he read I wonder told him that not all Muslims are terrorists? Has he read that the imam of the proposed mosque is of the mainstream sort that even George W. Bush attempted to promote? And, through all his chronic depression, does he really not know any of the history leading up to 9/11? There was indeed a reason, even if you don't agree with it.
He seriously said that? Wow, we have an Islamic terrorist in our President's office. Wonderful. Whatever Obama is, he's NOT American. America used to be about strength, individuals banding together to do what needs doing, we were about leadership, the world saw us as a leading power, we were on top. Now thanks to Obama (I swear it's Osama with a name change) our country just bends over and takes it from anyone and everyone. Instead of growing crops we're eating the damn seeds. Even worse, our "commander and chief" is our nation's worst enemy. I don't care if the president is white, black, yellow, red, or freakin' polka dotted, a shitty president is a shitty president hands down.
I fail to see any truth at all in this argument, if it can be called that. I think at this point hate has finally gotten the best of poor Ivan. He may not care if a president is white, black, yellow, red or freakin' polka dotted, but certainly seems to have a problem with their fictional religion. His idea of strength should be brought to question as well: what brand of strength does he believe America should have? If he's opposing freedom of religion and places of worship it certainly isn't strength of its values or its constitution.
Despite it's many inaccuracies this brand of argument is a growing force, both social and political, in America through the fringes of Fox News and the Tea Party movement. Ivan, no doubt, exemplifies this on this week's edition of Profiles on Hate. .
Chocolate milk brings back heady days
Of school room cafeteria –
Frozen peas and frozen pizza
Tossed upon a plastic tray
We thought our elders
Were acquainted with
In what must have been
The Great Depression
Or a Civil War, that
Could have been our own
Or one with Wallace
Maybe Cromwell
Possibly Czar Nicholas II
Before he fell to Bolsheviks
In Yekaterinburg;
I can’t be sure.
All I know’s I drink a glass
And can swear I hold a carton
In hands much smaller than my own
That reach towards paper and a straw
For spitballs to be shot at
The girl I had a crush upon
In eleventh grade
But never told her –
She’s married and a lawyer now
And probably a millionaire
That wouldn’t recollect my name
If I wrote it in the sky for her
And parachuted down
With hundreds of old photographs.
Narrator: It is the year 2020 and America has become a true capitalist state. The only legal political entity is the Republican Party.
Bailiff: The sole Supreme Court Justice John Roberts is now presiding.
Justice John Roberts: Mt. Dew has paid me more than you, therefore for saying Dr. Pepper tastes better I sentence you to twenty years in prison.
Defendant: What about justice?
Justice John Roberts: There is no justice only profit and loss; I profit and it’s your loss. Next.
Defendant taken away; another brought in
Defendant: Judge, show mercy. I can’t go back to prison. The guards and warden work us to the bone for capital gain.
Justice John Roberts: You should be proud! The strength of our capitalist system is envied the world over!
Defendant: It isn’t though, the other countries pity our police state.
Justice John Roberts: I do not know where your elitist facts come from but they are 105% wrong. I add fifty years to your sentence for unauthorized news viewing. Next.
Defendant: When did this become law?
Justice John Roberts: When Fox wrote it. Next.
Defendant taken away; another brought in
Defendant: Justice John Roberts I don’t know why I’m here.
Justice John Roberts: You have lost your job and cannot pay bills. Before you protest towards some sort of welfare state, being the dirty leach you are, we have determined to execute you.
Defendant: Who do you mean by ‘we?’
Justice John Roberts: My corporate friends and I.
Defendant is shot in the court room; another brought in
Ah, the Second Amendment; the only one left!
Defendant: You may take my freedom but never my pride!
Justice John Roberts: What’s this? It says you were union organizing. I shall kill you myself!
Justice John Roberts strangles the defendant
Next!
Bailiff: Sir, there are none.
Justice John Roberts: How can that be?
Bailiff: Everyone in the U.S. is either dead, in prison or working for a prison.
Justice John Roberts: What about my corporate friends?
Bailiff: They committed suicide weeks ago.
Justice John Roberts: The Mountain Dew executives?
Bailiff: The price of healthcare rose too high and they decided to move overseas.
Justice John Roberts: But what about our capitalist, free market utopia?
Bailiff: You’re looking at it.
Justice John Roberts: At least we have each other.
Bailiff: Sir, I’m taking my family to France. As much as I agree with Fox News we need medical attention.
Justice John Roberts: But the United States has the best healthcare system in the world!
Bailiff: Not on my salary.
Bailiff leaves
Justice John Roberts: Well I’d rather die a lonely capitalist than a happy socialist.
I stopped at Speedway
Got their biggest coffee -
42 oz of caffeine
To accelerate my heart
And let the sadness pass
More quickly than it had been
Unaided by a stimulant.
But the soul is not a muscle
Or a chemical to alter.
I moved faster yet
My thoughts were set in stone -
A boulder I might try and kick
But only break my toe. Sigh, I miss you.
The breadth of loss may
Only be fathomed in oceans
Where the waves stretch
Far beyond comparison
And storms rage against
The night and day
Until extinguished
In the icy north;
Frigid in their loneliness. I give it an A+ +
I sell magic by the bushel. Yes, I do, like my father and his father and all the other fathers in the pantheon of fatherhood. Gnomes know it well.
We help those in need and those with desire. Have you ever seen a beggar wake to be a prince? Why, that’s me at work! And I’m spectacular. Perhaps too spectacular.
I shiver to think I’ve done the world a disservice but between you and me, there was this case, a trifle if you will.
It was just after the thaw if memory serves me right. Winter had ebbed and with it came the first blossoms of a new spring, and as always the foibles of young love.
She came running up to me in tears to say he never noticed her and if I would be so kind to sell a bushel she could set things right. But I was very frank with her.
“There is might and wealth in magic, but no love,” I said.
“Oh, but I’m sure it could play the slightest role to even the odds against the other girls that strive to call on him,” she replied.
“Lady, I assure you there is not power I possess to conquer hearts.”
She bowed to my height and took her leave. I continued selling ware throughout the day to poor and sickly types, sometimes not charging at all and always what they could afford to pay. Charity had always been integral to the identity of gnomes. Our hats, indeed were most always sewn by the grateful.
But, I could only stay so long before I needed rest. The sun had weighed heavy in the hot heat.
Therefore, I retired near a tree along the beaten path. However, I would not sleep long that before the lady, who earlier sought love, returned.
“Mr. Gnome,” she began, “I beg of you to give me magic so that I may travel to another town. I can’t be happy here, to see my love cavorting with another.”
Looking at her swollen eyes I pitied her. Reaching for my tote I removed a bluish orb and sold it to her in exchange for gold.
She ran off before I could offer anymore advice. With a sigh, I went to sleep once more. I had been old much too long to understand such matters.
In the morning, I noticed my tote, once holding an abundance of orbs was emptied completely. Someone had stolen it!
Oh, the tribulations this sleepy town will witness, I thought. With one orb and illness may be cured and as much as a scar placed upon an enemy. Yet, with the six now missing, homes would certainly burn while murder reigned!
I rushed down the path into the hamlet immediately. Buildings indeed burned as people screamed. Cries seemed endless every turn.
Curiosity got the better of me and I went into the nearest house. A mother and father looked mournfully upon what must have been their daughter. She was still without breath but bore no marks of trauma.
“What has happened?” I asked.
“YOU!” the mother screamed. “You brought this wickedness! Our beautiful daughter is dead!”
I gaped in horror for a minute before checking the other dwellings. So many daughters worthy of a tiara were silenced in a bitter rage.
The lady had only bought from me to see where I kept the orbs, I realized. And I had let her trick me.
I tried looking for the woman responsible for all that had been done but could not find her in the hamlet. Only when I made the long walk back to my tree, off the beaten path, did I perceive her worried form.
She held the six emptied orbs in her arms while tears ran down her cheeks. I still pitied her.
“Oh, Mr. Gnome, I never meant to hurt so many. I just saw him with her and used the magic in revenge against her. But I lost control and they all kept dying; even those I knew as friends. Then, the houses started burning…”
“Child, I do forgive you but I can’t undo these awful deeds. You will have to keep the burden as will I.”
“What if you turned back the clock?”
“You’ve destroyed a town with love and now you seek to kill the world with time? These forces, my dear, are untamable and always will be.”
“Let me come with you then,” she asked.
I’m not sure why I told her yes; perhaps because we were labeled the same now; perhaps because we were the only two to understand each other’s guilt. But, I am certain these events will be trifles to the good we’ll do repaying God. I liked it.
I wonder if some people really are evil
Or if the world's misunderstood them
to the point they have to prove themselves
And can't go back to how it was
Despite their heart's desire for
The opposite of fear and hate;
Despite relief that comes from
Giving up a fruitless fight.
***
I dread the day I tell my kids
my generation wrecked the world.
We had the knowledge and the power
for a shining future but
we let it dim - and now our
endless bickering goes down as
mankind's most epic tragedy.
***
It would be a crying shame
If we ever got so married
to our grandiose ideals
that we forgot the little things -
of laughing, loving, spending times
with family and good friends -
and let their solace pass us by
to leave us shallow, unfulfilled. Wow.
It was around 4am. For no particular reason I sat out in the living room with a pad of paper, unsure of what to write. I looked around, considered the decorating. A white-rimmed mirror caught my eye. I wrote two pages of verses about it, and had an epiphany: I write much better when I take in my surroundings.
The white-rimmed mirror
Flickers with white candles
Burning their white flames
Into white smoke.
The white-rimmed mirror
Reads covers of white books
In white fonts
With white description.
The white-rimmed mirror
Reflects its white self
With white guilt
At white perception.
The white-rimmed mirror
Turns silver white
And gold to white washed air
Without white mercy.
The white-rimmed mirror
Shows non-white spectrums
But ignores them in white memory,
White history.
The white-rimmed mirror
Sees deep into white clouds
Past white atmosphere,
White heaven. .
Sen. Jon Kyl, R-Ariz., made headlines over the weekend when he suggested that the Senate should hold hearings on the constitutionality of the Fourteenth Amendment, which has been interpreted to ensure that anyone born in the United States is automatically a citizen of this country.
I think this sets a dangerous precedent. Not only would be isolating a large group of citizens, we would commit entire generations to live in fear. You have to wonder, if such a thing passed how many other amendments would proposed to be repealed in the name of securing the border as well?
