Category: General Topics

The Crick

Short, sweet, and to the point. Love the message Van. 🙂

vanbytheriver's avatarvanbytheriver

It was the forbidden place. A small creek at the end of our unpaved alley.

Filled with all sorts of dangers, it was our second home. The parents might have known about it, and looked the other way.

There was a primitive tree house, a rope swing, a log bridge over the water. tree-house-rope-swing

There were also small snakes, frogs, biting insects of all kinds, and as we learned a bit too late, poison ivy.

All that aside, it was paradise, our everyday summer destination.

The pictures shown here are very similar, but not the real thing. It did not exist, so how could there be actual photos?

It was not gender-specific, it could never be. There were too many alpha females in the hood.

There were no passwords, no secret handshakes, no rules. If you and your friends got there first, it was yours, at least for an hour or…

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Open Invitation Blog Share – Reblogs

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I’m in a sharing mood today. Do you have a post you’d like re-blogged? Poetry? Short Story? Promo? Attach the link in the comments section and I’ll get to it as soon as I can (rated G please). If there are any special tags you’d like to include (such as your name or the name of your blog) to help people find the post better, include them as well.

Enjoy the rest of your evening and remember, sharing is caring 🙂 lol.

( It is tho…)

– EC

The Radio

Love this! Objectification at its finest. I Love this kind of writing.

Object Relations's avatarObject relations

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Your voice wants to be held. Close tucked into the palm of my ear and bent like crooked fingers curling, you smolder. Burnt notes crackle. You are the tip of an unfiltered cigarette. You ash where others breathe. When my hand opens, you’re caught, finger fried in the molding of what wants to be said and what slips behind. Forever binding, you fall in between the cracks of my hearing. Softer words were never said.

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The Conscious 70s

You better speak Michael …the conscious 70s, gotta love it. You don’t see truth in TV shows like this no more. A black family living in the projects with a man who ruled his household well and whose wife, while opinionated, still submitted to his authority. JJ was over the top yes, but his sons were not drug dealers and his daughter was not pregnant.That’s saying a lot considering the circumstances of their environment.

Blankets vs. Sheets

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“Something on my skin”. That’s my phrase for when I need something to cover me. Not necessarily that I am cold, I just need “something on my skin”. You know, a sheet, a blanket, a comforter, a shawl. Let not my body be exposed to the elements, but encase me in the protection of covering. A heavy blanket is a gigantic hug of therapy stretching its body wide and waiting for me to curl into the center of its longing. I cuddle myself against the warmth of cotton fabric and it accepts my gift, I have chosen it over the others. I dim the lights for a good read or a good movie while throw overs and shawls stand by with stale faces. Their bodies wrinkled with disgust on top the linen closet shelf, or creasing with agony inside bureaus. Word in the closet is that I only visit when I need something and the hangers are too cold at night. But the biggest wars are fought between sheets and blankets. The latter being my favorite pick while the first a last resort. The bigger and fluffier the better, so sheets attempt to stick to itself after washing, hoping for an imbalance of electric charges to create the static electricity it needs to stick around–literally. Like hands holding onto feet for dear life, the layers of my sheets hope too for some chunk of substance, some thickness, but I am not deceived.

“Sorry guys, not this time. But I will need you to guard the corners of my bed, it is after all what you were made for, can you do that?”

Nothing. That’s what I get, silence. This means on the next wash day they’ll command the machine to leave them just dingy enough to get on my nerves. That’s OK though. This is why I prefer blankets over sheets anyway. They are so much more peaceful, and warm too.