Hide and Seek – Daffni Gingerich

hide and seek

From Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, available on Amazon


 

I have poured out the contents of my insides today. I don’t want them back but there will come a day when they’re handed back to me with side notes and red ink. And I will retreat under the bed like I did as a child during hide and seek. There’s knowledge left under beds from those who never survived hiding. My eyes would dart back and forth and my heart would race as if death was truly on the outside waiting. It was always the big brown eyes of my brother that found me. And with such a rush I’d demand he be seeker again. He’d whine and I’d ignore him until he quit and we went our separate ways. Headstrong. That’s what they call me. I’m hard to stick around because anyone without passion bores me and anyone with it, well, that’s deadly. Deadly, like hide and seek. I’ve had an insatiable craving for sweets lately. I do my best to be an adult and pair them with more salads, but that amount of eating can be too much. I’d need more than 3 salads a day, and three is quite a lot already. If only hiding under the bed brought me sweets, I’d have been more likely to give my brother a turn to hide.


Daffni Gingerich says simply that she “is a writer.” You can read more of her mesmerizing prose at Daffniblog.

What Are Words 4 – Olde Punk

what is love 4

From Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, available on Amazon

Lidocaine and cold passion

Misshapen nights unfastened

A misprint in my falsehood

Driving derision in a thunderstorm

Stormborn, borne to the edge

I scorn the precepts that flood

The nights on television

With false precision, more indecision

The race is tightening, the racism frightening

When will we be of all one kind, one mind?

Whatever, nevermind to quote a sad sod

Another in passing is saying hello 2 heaven

The words live on and they say fight for

Your rights

I don’t know what right I have to say

But I tend to write these things anyway

Reproachful I pretend to be

But I so tire of the reprehensible dichotomies

We are not the lazy, stupid fools

You desire to see

I am out to sea with the Party

I wish there was another choice of tea

This one has gone cool and the aroma

Is quite drab

I’m fishing for the big one

My mood is quite glum

I hope to find

Others like me, the ones

Left behind and still alive

And fed up with the 9 to 5

And taxes and healthcare reform

I need to be fucking reborn

My kids’ heads are full of drivel and swine

Zero Trans Fats and sugar substitutes still seem

To widen my behind

Where o where is the truth?

Is it hidden under my pillow like a fallen tooth?

I beseech anyone who is reading this silly farce of prose

Am I talking out of my ass

Or did I hit it right on the nose?

Dimethocaine and rational thoughts

Mix as well as oil and water

There are some things cannot be bought

I struggle with what to tell my daughter

Poverty for the meek

Lambs for the slaughter

A kiss on the cheek

But sometimes I pray

That we all go underwater

But hey, I don’t know

Isn’t there always

Hope for tomorrow?

If not, I’ve still got

Dimethocaine and whiskey

And the love of someone smarter


Olde Punk is an editor of Sudden Denouement and the curator of Ramjet Poetry.  Hockey, food and punk rock junkie.  Sci-Fi/fantasy/comic book nerd.  Writing for years; still not any better.