All posts by notlimey

About notlimey

I paint with words Poetry and prose I teach online and write about online teaching

april snow

April snow


i really should write something, you know

before i start my paid employment

it behoves me to scribble some nonsense down

you know

something that i don’t but you do


is my brain rattling loose

i didn’t like that line though it’s something

you know

now how do i get out of this meandering loop

and stop wasting time whatever that is though i think

you know

One morning

One morning I decided to stop being insane

I looked at the sun and saw it was only flame

The trees no longer sang to me but became wood for picture frames

Green grass and flowers of many hues were now habitat for bugs more than a few

The stars in the night sky burned coldly across a terrible dark emptiness

The moon was arid a deadly nest

Colour was now a spectrum of light and touch and texture signals sent to my brain day and night

Magic and joy were illusions of sparks jumping the gaps in synapses as my heart a muscle pumping

Life itself was naught

I prayed that sanity leave me now so I could live again in my world of light

And dream my dreams smiling in my thoughts

i have no stories (part II)

I have a problem with my brain. My brain works in flashes only. Narrative streams ––stories, if you will –– are an agony to construct. I suppose that is why I write short poems mostly. I am going about my business, bothering only a few innocent bystanders, when a poem flashes into my brain. I run; I rush; I dash to my computer or drag my phone out of my pocket (and it always catches on my jeans which are too tight…. not too tight because I am a young man with a nice ass …. too tight because I have an old man’s belly, but that is an old story). I write quickly because my brain has another problem. My brain cannot hold these poems for long. They flutter and then bash against their temporary prison in a usually successful bid at evaporation. In the past they escaped and evaporated more often than I managed to imprison them on a screen page. But as I get older I am faster despite the belly.

Sometimes, however, the flow will not stop. I have no idea where it is going, or … where it came from?  Maybe it is already fully formed in my poor brain. It just keeps coming like this ‘whatever it is’ I am writing here.

Hmmmmm. I was intending some goal. Now just what was that goal? Oh, yes. Writing in flashes when what I really want is to write a best selling novel so I can play in vats of nickels and quarters just like Scrooge McDuck. So I do not have to worry about the taxes I owe, or the debts or the fact my house is in even worse physical shape than my body.



That’s all I have to say.

Sea creatures

We are sea creatures living in the bottom of a sea of air

Each night the blue turns black in waves deep down there

We move about rapidly in frightening ways

The Martians and the folks from Alpha Centauri gasp when they see us on TV documentaries

They could not imagine creatures so grotesque

Living their strange unfathomable lives

In the farthest deeps of the air