Pieces of glass…

‘Tis true.

a cooking pot and twisted tales

Shattered Glass, Texture, Broken, Window, Glass Texture

a broken life
 is just like pieces of glass.
 Even when you
 patch it up,
 there'll always be some c
                                             r
                               a
                                         c
                        k
                                             s.

Glass

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an…

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Do You Remember? – The Gong Show

I had a little trouble deciding on which clip to use for this memory trip. In going through the videos I discovered a number of people who went on to achieve some measure of fame, including singer Alice Cooper, actress Mare Winningham, actor Paul Reubens (who later became PeeWee Herman), impressionist/comic Michael Winslow (remember the Police Academy movies?), and Steve Martin.

For those who never saw the show: Chuck Barris, creator of The Gong Show, was the host. Each act was given two minutes to perform, with a guarantee of getting at least 30 seconds to showcase their talent. After that 30 seconds, the performer(s) would either be allowed to continue performing, or any one of the three celebrity judges could “gong” the act – at which point  the performance would immediately end.  If the performance lasted the full two minutes, each of the three celebrity judges [Jamie Farr of M*A*S*H fame was a frequent judge] would score the performance ranging from 0 to 10.  At the end of the show, the person or performing group who scored the highest point total from the judges would receive a prize check for $516.32.

Chuck Barris stated that he kept the prize amount low to keep it from being too important to anyone. There were regular acts such as “The Unknown Comic”, but to be fair professionals weren’t allowed to compete for the grand prize. Instead, they were paid the actor’s union scale for their performance – $516.32.

Butt …

Photo prompt provided by Yinglan. Thank you, Yinglan!

Photo prompt provided by Yinglan. Thank you, Yinglan!

“I’m telling you, I know for sure they’re out of town for the weekend.”

“But … ”

“The dogs are sweethearts and they’re outside.”

“But … ”

“Nobody is going to see us way out here.”

“But … ”

“There’s no alarm system.”

“But … ”

“Just shut up and help me carry out this flat screen.”

line-1

“Phew! Honey, I love your family but I’m glad this weekend is over.” Anna said. Just then she heard the flap of the doggie door and her hands were full of dog in a flash. “Hey, Lucy, did you miss us? What have you got?”

“Ken, you better check to see if you have any torn jeans, Lucy has the back pocket from a pair.”

“Anna, you better come in here,” Ken said from the den. Anna walked in to see him standing over the shattered TV. “I think Lucy took a bite out of a burglar.”

Lucy was happily gnawing on a ham bone while the cops wrote up the report.

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Footloose

FFftPP #27 - Shoes

As the sun began to set and the air got chilly, he slung his guitar over his shoulder and picked up his cigar box. “Come on, Jonesy, it’s time to call it a day. Let’s stop by Chang’s on the way home and pick up something to eat. Maybe they’ll have a nice hunk of beef for such a good, handsome dog.” Jonesy wagged his tail in agreement.

As they got closer to Chang’s the smells made his stomach rumble and his mouth water in anticipation. Suddenly, Jonesy pulled the leash out of his hand and took off down an alley. “Hey! Where are you going, you goofy beast?” And after I just complimented him, too.

He found Jonesy sniffing around a pair of heavy work shoes. “What have we here? Hmmm, those look like my size. I could use a new pair.”

Jonesy growled as he reached for one of the shoes. “What is wrong with you, Jonesy? It’s just a shoe.” Then he looked inside the shoe and immediately lost his appetite. The shoes were already occupied by another pair of feet.

Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner.

Wednesday Thoughts

I read the following statement on Twitter today. “The universe is like a lottery, and all of you win it by having been born into it, and yet most people want a refund at some time or other.”  Well, I’m ready for my refund.

II can't pretend‘m really struggling with my depression. My living and transportation situation is becoming increasingly untenable, not to mention the finances. I feel like nobody needs me, wants me or even cares. If not for my faith and hope, and the friends I’m making here, I would be gone. Those are just the facts.

Why is it that I am so good at helping others through their rough spots but I can’t seem to help myself? Why is there nobody here for me?

I will be turning 65 in a few months so I’m also having to make decisions about my healthcare that my brain doesn’t feel up to handling lately. Then today I found out that my beloved doctor is retiring (he’s in his mid-50s) next month so I also have to find a new doctor.  I frickin’ HATE having to change doctors. It’s so hard to find someone who really listens and doesn’t just rush you through and/or discount your concerns due to age or weight. I’ve been through that before. I was so glad when I returned to Texas that Dr. Bob was still in practice. I feel like I’m losing another friend.

I don't know

Somehow, though, I do manage to not sleep all day, just stay in bed much of it. I do what I have to for myself – such as laundry, and what I’m physically able to do around the house, but I can’t find the energy to do much else. When I’m not in pain, it’s too hot to even try much walking during the day and evenings are too mosquito-ridden.

pain-and-suffering

I’m just tired, worn out. I’m tired of being sick and in pain. I’m tired of being alone, of being lonely, of feeling useless, of feeling unwanted, of feeling unneeded. I want my independence back and to feel I’m doing something worthwhile.

So say a prayer for me. Maybe if I try to write a flash/micro story it will help. It’s helped some just getting this off my chest tonight. Thanks to all of you for always being there to listen when nobody else will.

 

See beyond “the police” for change…

This post holds so much truth and carries a lot of weight. When will enough be enough?

don of all trades

It is absolutely the worst kept secret that police officers are our own worst enemies.

For whatever the reasons are, we not only look agift horse in the mouth, but we question it, frisk it, shake it down, and run it for warrants just in case.

Damn.

Another black man is dead, and what I’ve been reading all day is that he was killed at the hands of “the police.” This time, it happened in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It seems we can’t take two or three baby steps forward with rebuilding public trust before we take a giant, grown man step backwards.

All I’ve seen all day online line is that we, “the police,” are awful.

“The police” are racist.

“The police” are blood thirsty.

“The police” are violent.

“The police” are vengeful.

“The police” are acting as judge, jury and executioner on the streets of America.

“The police” killed…

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