Mood:  don't ask

Terror on Dark Street

WHO IS WALKING IN THE NIGHT LIKE A MAD MAN, CLOAKED IN A LONG RUFFLED GOWN?  BLACKENED BY THE DEPTH OF ANGUISH, HE IS LIKE A PROWLER ON THE HUNT TO FORCE HIS WAY INTO YOUR UNSUSPECTING SOUL!

HE WILL FIND YOU AND CRUMBLE YOU IN TWO!            

HE WILL FORCE YOU DOWN ON THE GROUND AND STUFF YOUR MOUTH WITH WORMS.

HE IS THE SEEKER OF VENGEANCE!

HE COMES TO CLAIM A BOUNTY AND WILL NOT LEAVE THIS EARTH UNTIL HE FINDS YOU.

HE IS A RAIDER ON A MISSION!

HE EXISTS ONLY IN YOUR MIND!

HE ATTACKS YOUR GUILT AND DEFILES YOU WITH A MIRRORED IMAGE.

HE HAS A NAME, HIS NAME IS, ‘OBSCURITY.’ 

HE IS THE FEAR THAT WEILDS HIS HEAVY SWORD UPON YOUR BREAST FOR ALL THE BAD YOU HAVE DONE IN LIFE AND HE WILL GET YOU, NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU RUN.

YOUR ONLY CHANCE TO RID YOURSELF OF HIM IS TO TURN AROUND AND FACE HIM DEAD ON!

YOU MUST TELL HIM TO LEAVE AND TO STAY AWAY, TELL HIM HE IS NOT PERMITTED TO RETURN.
HE WILL ONLY LEAVE IF HE KNOW'S THAT YOU HAVE CHANGED YOUR VILE WAYS.

HE WANTS NO MORE FORNICATION, YET HE WANTS YOUR SOUL.

IF YOU REPENT HE WILL DISTANCE HIMSELF FROM YOU AND SEEK OUT ANOTHER.

HE IS; THE ‘TERROR ON DARK STREET.’ 

HE WILL BLOW FIREY SMOKE DOWN YOUR THROAT; HE WILL PILLAGE YOUR BRAIN WITH GRUESOME VISIONS. 

THE AFTERSHOCK OF HIS APPEARANCE WILL LEAVE YOU WITH AN IMPRINT OF HIS GORY FACE EMBEDDED IN YOUR EYES WHEN THEY FIND YOUR LIFELESS BODY.

HIS NAME IS, ‘ INIQUITOUS.’ 

HE WILL SLEEK OFF INTO THE NIGHT AFTER HE PLUMMELS YOU TO A WASTE LAND BEYOND THE FIRES OF HELL.

HE WILL DISROBE HIMSELF AND EXPOSE A BEAUTIFUL BODY, THE BODY OF WOMAN BARING LOINS OF DECIET!

HE HAS A NAME; HIS NAME IS, ‘UNFORGIVEN.’

By:  JvS  aka Gilda Schaal © 2007 All Rights Reserved

Mood:  happy

My visit to the Tibetan Mountain Temple
'A comedy of minds'

Far in the hills there sat an illustrious temple where monks lived and prayed and listened to the preaching of the great Dahli Pardon.  Monks were all over the place eating and drinking, saying psalms and rubbing the master’s baldhead while chanting wishes.  

When I got there in my little 1971 yellow hatch back Toyota Celica I could hardly wait to get out of the car and race up the hill to the temple.  I put the car in park, took the key out of the ignition and held my tummy in and still couldn’t get passed the steering wheel.  I grabbed the small can of Armour-all which I kept in my glove box and sprayed it all over the steering wheel. Doing this allowed me to slide out of the car as easy as trash slid out of George Bush’s mouth.

Up the hill I ran, tripping over the bedelia & petunia blossoms, scuttling frantically at the prospect of meeting the great Dahli herself.  When I got to the temple gate I was greeted by a monk, he blindfolded me and took me toward the temple door.  I took my blindfold off and entered the temple in silence, there she was sitting beneath a very ornate alter donned in a coat of many colors.  She looked like Miss Piggy, big and pink; in fact she was a big pink pig.  I was shocked but not surprised.  I even wiped a tear from my dry eye. “Hand me the visine please!”  They say visine takes the red out but I had pink eye from looking at the Dahli as she bent over in the petunia patch.

I listened, I saw, I heard, I looked, and I listened again.  Dahli was belting out a psalm, it sounded familiar.

I knew I heard this psalm before, ‘da da da da da da da_da da da da da da da, da rah rah rah’.  Dayum, it was the stripper song!

At that moment several monks regaled into the temple arm in arm looking like the Rockettes doing a river dance at Radio City Music Hall.

There was a big crack on the temple ceiling. These temples sure aint what they’re cracked up to be.  I asked the head monk if I could repair their cracks; he broke his vow of silence long enough to tell me to quit the monkey business.  

I knew I owned a Candle Shoppe but I never even knew I was in the monkey business.  

I made a mental note to call my accountant in the morning.  

I wanted to talk with the Dahli and attain some insight.  I took my glasses off as she pointed at me, waving her finger for me to come closer.  She was so big and so pink, being in her presence was totally moving.  She moved, I moved, she moved again, everything moved!  Like I said, it was totally moving.  Oh Dahli I screeched as I fell to my knees, anoint me with your wisdom and grace. She began to oink, I mean speak, She told me of a place in the hills far away, she said that love was like a butterfly, she told me of a girl with a holy destiny.  I whispered the name of a good tailor.  She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You can’t be a bacon, ooops I mean ‘beacon if your light don’t shine.”  

 I asked who this girl might be and she told me the girl was named Hiawatha.  I was so confused; I thought Hiawatha was a poem written by Longfellow.  She laughed like a wild banshee, slapping me on the back and shouting…gitcheegoomeeeeeeeeeee!

So I slapped her back and told her to get her own goomie!

I asked her to show me the way out of the temple, she told me to go two doors down, their laughing and drinking and having a party with some tramp.  There you will find the golden camel of Tibet, rub his hump and when he spits three times you will have your answer but you better hurry cause he only works from nine to five.  She was anxious to get rid of me because she wanted to get to the casino Tibet.  I left her standing there; I went two doors down and opened the door and saw Hiawatha there, I knew this was my chance and so I took it, Hiawatha I humbly asked…what is the meaning of life? She looked at me full of wisdom and said; "let me call my handmaiden and she shall bestow you with your answer", with that she opened her mouth and screamed...

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jo leeeeeee-eee-eeeeen.  

She waltzed over to me; her beauty was beyond compare with flaming locks of auburn hair.  She had ivory skin and eyes of emerald green.  I asked her, “What is the meaning to life?”  She said that life was like an Island in the stream, a place where one could meditate.  A place of solace and solitude where one can freely flatulate.  Let the wind go free where ere ye be, if not the wind may killeth thee. I was so disappointed to find out the meaning of life was “GAS”.

With that she told me it was time for me to go. Fry Daddy the silent rapping monk led me to an exit door.  I found myself standing in the petunia bed with Dahli Pardon.  I said, I have to go cause if I should stay I would only be in your way.  I went to my car, happy at the prospect of heading home. As I slowly drove away I saw Dahli in the petunia patch waving her hanky and in the distance I heard her saying, I, I, I will alwayays love you-oooo - oooooooo!

 

Mood:  chillin'

Harley

Harley sat by the lakes edge, glaring into the rippling waves, staring the stare of the dead of mind and humming the tune of uncaring.

Multi colored leaves blew in all directions, floating, just floating, and riding the small waves of indecisiveness.  Harley glared as the sun went down and the shimmer of blue turned to grayish black.

A cold breeze sent dampness through her body and by and by she got up and left the lakes edge.

Walking without thinking, she promenaded through town and found the entrance to her apartment door.  Turning the key in the lock, she looked at the golden shiny name plate underneath the door knocker.  Harley saw the face of the guardian of death beckoning her forth.  In she went, not afraid of the threat of her demise.  If she would die this very night she would be free of mindless action, free to face the new realm at hand, the unknowing realm mystifyingly at her reach.

As Harley entered the moonlit room, she reached for the light, she felt a hand upon her shoulder, and yet another hand lay gently upon the hand that reached slowly for the light switch. She lit the light of unconcern and looked dead into the eyes of her new captor.  Her captor was fair and lingered there; she gave to her a smile of wisdom and beauty beyond compare.

Their eyes were locked in a beautiful stare while the breath of hope was breathed into her lungs. Her captor was an angel of God, not the devil of whom she would try to spite for all that was wrong and nothing that was right. Very shortly after, Harley was found by a friend, lying on her chaise with a smile all aglow and a delicate rose in her hand.  Harley's spirit hovered in the air for it had not yet left the atmosphere.

Her friend gave a sigh and as she tried to close Harley's eyes, her hand went numb.  She pulled her hand back, only to vision Harley rising. 

Harley stood by her friend as she called her by name, telling of her rejuvenation.  Her revision was swift, like a torrent she'd lift, from her chaise to the halls of salvation.

By: JvS aka Gilda Schaal © 2000 All Rights Reserved