Morning Cup of Haiku

Gray clouds weep, rain falls.

Hot soups flavor, dancing taste soothes.

Glorious blanket.

Hot black coffee drink.

My face drinks the morning sun.

All downhill from here.

Snot streaks under his nose.

Toys thrown upon, everywhere.

2 year old finds joy.

Heart pumps wild red love.

My glorious inflated torture.

Pressure of a kiss.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glorious/

 

The night I Disobeyed the Demon

Pressing the button to silence the radio, I drove on in the thick darkness.  The road like a frozen river of stone.  Lights like lost souls drifting, steady towards home.  I asked my Creator to sit with me, I felt as if he was listening to me in the empty passenger seat.  With tires howling and wind lashing at my car I asked for his help.  I said I was sorry for telling him last, for fighting on my own, for saturating in evil for so long.  I drank a tall cold glass of water that night as I went to bed.  As I slept, a swirling and glowing microscopic lightning danced peacefully in my brain.   Glowing threads, like little fingers, clean my mind.  They are pulling a sticky putrid sludge loose from my memory.  An angry storm of black clouds and red lightning falls out of my ear as I sleep.  Scales covered in oil.  A screaming angry invader writing in protest.  Rendered powerless in its eviction, it falls.  Shadows rule minds that choose to stand with backs turned toward the light.   A yellow warm listening light, when called upon, when unblocked, burns demon flesh to ruin.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

A Writers Building

The words my soul spills, are like bricks and wood.  At first they are laid in a deep hole.  Then covered with cold unforgiving dirt.  A few more words, fall by the thousands.  The structure and composition is better, but fire soon devours them.  I build again, this time with knowledge of writing, an architect in my mind working along side my passion.  The building of my words is strong.  Someone pays me to look at it.  They enjoy the experience.  They smile, they cry, they read.  I look at my structure and I realize I can build onto my skill, better, stronger.  More words, stacking.  This time I build, tear down, rebuild, polish, refine.  Like a cathedral of my work, it is beautiful, many come.  Some love it, some hate it, but it is there to be considered.   Bricks and wood, one by one.   Finite experience is only found within the building.

Copyright © 2107 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Grip of Darkness

I found myself being fitted for a 500 dollar suit.   My sister in-laws wedding would be including my son as the ring bearer. At the time he was only a year old.  The sleeves of the gray of the suit were about 8 inches (20 centimeters) too short.  The salesman laughed and said, “It’s ok, just never put your arms up.”

The tentacles of evil, are strong and painful.  They wrap around hearts and wring painful emotions out.  If their hold persists, then the heart turns dark, and becomes lost within its pain.  Evil will always say, “After assessing myself, I have discovered that I am not that bad.  I am a good.  If you feel discomfort, then you are just too sensitive.  This is just the way things are.”  I am sure this word track is as old as humanity.  The abuser will self asses, then blame the victim.  Their laughter shakes the tentacles, amplifies the hurt and breaks the heart.

Why is God, the last one to know?  I ask myself this many times.  I gripe alone in my car.  I tell the tale to any willing ear I can find.  Evil’s conquest of my heart, my moral, and my life.  Yet, I don’t tell my creator.  My friend.  I wonder how he feels when I try to steal his job.  When I say with my actions that I am better equipped to dislodge the tentacles than the expert.  Evil laughs at my efforts and tightens its grip.  It hopes that I will never call upon God.  Alone, I am defeated.  I begin to believe the lies.  I become evil myself.

Then I make a choice.  My wife, my sweet angel, tells me to call upon God.  “Let go of this junk!” she yells at me.  She yells, because she so passionately loves me.  The solution to all of my problems is so simple, and she knows it.  What a stubborn fool I am.  I wrestle with my pride, as my heart grows tentacles of its own.  The dosage of pain, hurt, and evil is saturated.  It leaks out of my mind, my words, and my life.

Alone in the car, my soul covered in putrid rot, I ask God if he will ride with me.  I fight the tears.  My eyes are hot.  I am so ashamed I can only whisper.  I clear my textbooks and coffee shop napkins off of the passenger seat.  “I need to talk to you,” I say.  I turn off the radio.  I power down my phone.  I am alone with my creator.  I roll up the tinted windows, “I don’t know what to do.  I have been poisoned for so long.  I offer up a punch list of my own failures and sorrow.  I ask for forgiveness.  I reluctantly ask him to forgive others.”  I cry in silence.  I tell him about a crossroads, about difficult decisions.  I feel like he listens.  The tentacles become brittle in a moment.  I feel like evil is purged out of my body, locked in my tears that fall on my shirt.  The pain becomes blurry.  I hear answers to my direct and specific questions, I uttered alone Answers light yellow light, shine within the smiling commentary of the people I meet for the rest of the day.  The feeling of relief and protection is like a warm blanket wrapped around me after I have drifted in a cold dark ocean for days.  I look up to the sky, the tug of my heart being pulled into the heavens is almost magnetic.

Copyright 2017 © Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Origin

The existence of demons is indeed, a visceral notion.  No zoo or museum houses the supernatural for the scientific mind to sample and define.  Consider for a moment, that perhaps demons are real.   A massive load of worry and anger from the injustice of favoritism, started as a hot neck, and an invisible lead straight jacket tugging on aching shoulders.  Then, as the lights danced in a tormented brain shadowing scars began to accumulate of the wall of the mind.  A creature was born of hurt, resentment, and hatred.  It seemed harmless at first, reaching out into the world with shadowy and sticky tentacles.  Warm black ink would run into the ear canals of any who would listen and incubate more demon spawn.

Humans may possibly be the parents to the unseen darkness of evil, as electrical brains hum and swirl events of hurt and anger.  Churning a massive centrifuge of thoughts and dark fantasies.  Unleashing darkness upon all that step near.  The blackened mist is not bound to it creator.  A human, deprived of life, leaves behind a footprint of warm glowing sunlight, and choking smoke.  Like living creatures they penetrate and saturate those left to life.  The creatures of emotion, live beyond the nest.

God saw it necessary to quell the veil of black, that evil creatures cast as they swim in the air between people.  A bright light, silent and hung on a cursed wooden monolith for a moment.   Light was lost for three hours, so that it could burn away darkness for an eternity.  Without light, demons will nest in the wounded brains of humanity.  Love and forgiveness is poison to evil.  It will writhe and scream under its dose, but eventually, it will die in the light.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert