NAPKIN WORDS #45 2010

1. FAULT OF THE DEPTH
It is at the height of our acclaim that we
first discover how deep is the well of ego,
how brackish are its waters!

2. THE MODERN MISTAKE
Everywhere, everyone will tell you that
you can’t do anything about a troublesome
something.

It is my belief, in opposition to this theory,
that one can always attempt to do something
about anything that is troublesome.

There might be negative consequences, but
not to try is the very worse of consequences.

It holds you up against the wall of that
troublesome something for all eternity!

3. LIVING A FULL LIFE
Life is filled with surprises.

You should be filled with expectations!

4. DAYS
Today is up to you and others.

You, only you, create your tomorrow!

5. LIFE LIMITS
Only you prove that life can learn!

6. WITHIN THAT THOUGHT
Kind remembrance is the conquest of
time!

7. ANGER ART
Unable to bare our souls, we often
show our emotions.

In that display, we frame ourselves!

8. OPTIMISM
Misfortune is simply preparation for
fortune!

9. GLADLY IN THE MIND
Dreams, beautiful dreams, asleep in
that mansion of ideas.

Bedded upon a softness of kindness!

10. FRIENDSHIP
The ultimate enemy of hatred!

11. THE CONUNDRUM OF FAITH
Professionals handle God, they are our
teachers, they rule our faith.

Such is the problem of every religion!

SHARK WATER SHADOWS
Dining on winds, gruel tasty of ocean sands,
roars of brine fear rushing shores of humankind.
In hunger, God punishes spirits over beads of
shell, tooth of shark, silent echoes of repetition.

Monotony of existence bellows in waste, never
explained power of time, everything leading to
the hush of nothing. Calm makes a death trap
for sailors lost by their going. Only then, does
a craving wave swallow but once in ripples of
silence. Calm is calm.

Water life is pushed to anger by painful rays
of sun brightness, which dives swiftly, pays
nothing, and then departs watery breasts,
leaving nothing, neither a kiss nor a mark left
of its playfulness. Beams of moon are worse, for
they hide behind dark clouds, then sneak slicing
rays to sprawl gold dark surface, while sharks of
life bite deeply, finding only hunger, for we are
mortals born of water. Humanity, afraid to look
at its birth womb between the splay of mother sea,
tries to send its history home, yet is bound to find
only castles of clouds holding tears, awaiting but
a cry to spill the deep.

Shadows fasten to slips of ebony held haughtily by
primeval wood of darkness.

A glass of brandy against a sway of color, displaying
tint and movement against the hush. Departure pours
into a livery ocean awash with bubbles, aromas, bleaches
of bones, stains of our time.

by Edward Hunter