Little Johnnys’ Smokin

Little Johnnys’ Smokin
Written by Donovan L. Green,
12/30/2008 1:07 AM

Me an Amber useta pittle, and sometimes fiddle, I guess we liked each other a little
We made fun of her mom’s knees, called her knock knees, and ran over to little Johnny’s
We played with a little frog croakin, after we’d been tokin, and then lied about smoken
we drove around in my corvette, chewing on our regret while smoking a cigarette
She used to pout, because I wasn’t very stout, which caused problems when we went out
Our love wasn’t much defined, it wasn’t much benign, but she liked me to slap her behind
My dad said I was a dud, I thought I was a stud, but in school all I could say was duh
I was strong as a mules head, sleeping in a fools bed, I needed to bring in wood from the shed

They Are Out There

They Are Out There
Written by Donovan L. Green,
12/27/2008 1:12 AM

They are out there, outside, all around us. You have your doubts, but you are in here with me. You are standing right next to me trying to place doubt in my mind about something that I know to be true, and you are afraid of. You are scared to death of. You hope, you wish, that I am wrong. You pray with all your might that your doubts are correct and that they are not out there, but deep down inside, down in that place that you cannot reach, that place which speaks to you about truth when the world is quiet, you hear the voice telling you that they are out there.

We stand next to each other in a pitch black room looking out through a small opening into the cold pitch black stillness. We cannot see a thing either inside or out, but we both know that they are out there, waiting. We can almost feel the static electricity on each other’s arms yet we cannot see each other. We hear each other’s breathing, if there was a shred of light we would see the warmth in our breath leave our bodies and fall stagnant in the chill of the night air.

Neither one of us dare to speak a word. Not a cricket, whippoorwill, or man made object can be heard. The quietness is so intense it is as if nothing really exists. Nothing but us, our bodies trying to operate as quietly as possible, even our breathing is too loud. Occasionally we each gently touch our faces to the window to try to gather a spatial relational ship with where we are. Occasionally our arms brush each other’s just to reassure that we are not alone.

We don’t dare to make a sound for being heard by them. Even if they are not actually out there, it is far better to suffer in this cold dark silence than to risk being heard. Every sound is amplified, magnified to a far greater loudness than ever experienced before. They are out there and we do not dare get caught. They are out there whether we want to believe it or not. And even if we do not want to believe it, deep down, we know, we know without a shadow of doubt.

They are more quiet than quiet. They can see without light. They can smell, oh no, a new fear creeps in. no matter how dark it is, no matter how quiet we are, they know we are here because they can smell us. We can strain our eyes to see through darkness as thick as six feet of earth. We can force our lungs to move in slow motion so our breathing makes no noise. But, how do we hide our smell? We can’t see them. We can’t hear them. We only know deep down that they are our there. But they can see us. They can hear our rapid breathing. They can smell the fear escaping from our pores.

Is there any escape from this madness? Is there anything we can do to save ourselves? Maybe if the sun would return and recreate our world as we knew it before. If particles of light would bounce off of the things we knew was there in front of us. For a moment there is a glimmer of hope for us. I wonder what you are thinking about. Are you being brave? Are you about to crack and scream? Are you wondering what I am thinking right now?

I wonder if we are ever going to be out of this situation. Will they ever leave, or will they outlast us. I lean forward ever so slowly until I can feel the warmth of my breath being reflected off of the glass window back onto my face. It is so dark that at times I begin to wonder if there is a floor under my feet.

Suddenly I awake and see my breath frozen on the window in front of me. I am startled to be alive and I wonder if they are still here, or whether they left when light began to overtake the darkness. I wonder if I was alone the night through. Were you ever here at all or was I by myself all along? I can see the trees again, the grass and the sky. Were they really out there at all, or was it all just my imagination? I feel safe again. The world does exist and I am not in an infinite void of total darkness after all.

I should bring in some firewood and stoke up the fire again. It will be nice to hear the crackle of burning wood in the fireplace. It will be nice to feel the warmth surrounding me again. I still can’t help but wonder though, were you ever here at all, in the cold still darkness, or was I all alone. And what about them, what happened to them? I know they were out there. They were there, waiting for me to make a noise. They were waiting for me to give away my position. They were there, in the cold still darkness, waiting, waiting for us. Or were they just waiting for me all along?

The Chase

The Chase
Written by Donovan L. Green,
December 16, 2008

The heat from my body rushes from me with each heart pounding breath I take. My teeth ache from the frigid air rushing across them and I feel as though my chest is going to explode as my lungs demand more oxygen for the depleted blood rushing through them.

 It is said in certain moments of stress you see your life pass before your eyes. I think of my friends and all the fun we’ve had together. The games we’ve played. The hours of riding our bicycles until the street lights come on at dusk. I think of my parents and the despise they have for me. The times that they were upset with me for reasons I do not understand.

 Between each desperate gasping breath I take I can hear the sound of freshly fallen snow crunching beneath my swiftly moving feet. Running as fast as I can my heart is racing twice as fast as my feet. I feel the snow slipping from under me as I desperately try to change directions. Branches from a bush slap against my body yet I feel no pain.

 I think of my friends again, what about them? Have they escaped? When a good person is under duress he thinks of his friends and loved ones. Good thoughts race through your mind, but despite that, the returning thought is of your own survival.

 I feel my assailant getting closer. I can hear breathing and the footsteps almost in unison with my own. I twist and turn, and dart as fast as I can. My exposed arms are pink from the cold but sweat is rolling down the side of my face. My breath clouds my vision in front of me. I think not of giving up and I find the strength for one last burst of energy hoping to outlast my assailant.

 Everything seems a little surreal as what seems at this point to be the inevitable. The footsteps behind me grow closer. I can hear heavy breathing as I feel a near miss strike across the back of my shoulder. It is more than enough to send my body surging forward faster than my feet can keep up with. I dive head first toward the trampled snow-covered ground.

 Tumbling to a stop on my back I lay outstretched. Looking up at the deep blue sky through the crystal-clear air, the sun is setting and the temperature is dropping, Twilight is fading to darkness. My breath swiftly bellows off towards the heavens through the cold air. No more flight or fight is left in me. The space above me, a vast void of endless space.

 My assailant is laying nearby in the same exasperated condition. For several minutes we both lie motionless fighting to fill our lungs, trying to catch up to the demand of our racing hearts. A sigh of relief escapes between breathes. And in an unwilling gesture of acknowledgment of being outran and defeated a slight grin hints across my exhausted face. Between big deep breaths of gasping air, I hear him force out the words in my direction, “tag, you’re it!”


Dreaming Big

Dreaming Big
Written by Donovan L. Green,
12/4/2008 2:27 AM

Have you ever dreamed of being good at something? Really good?
Whatever it is that you do, have you ever dreamed of being really good at it?
How about being the best at it? How about being on top of the game?
How about being the top of the game?

I haven’t.
I have only dreamed of being loved.