I walk on the deserted plain in search of the oasis.  There are no signs that might direct me.  I must depend on instinct alone.  Yet my instincts tell me that in the realm of innovation, there are indicators of change, clues that confirm you are indeed moving in the right direction.  But the deserted plain is named so because it is a lonely road indeed.  Every day I wander aimlessly in search of new ideas, something that might help me solve the mystery of history.  The future of the world in which I should dwell rests upon my finding the oasis of thought, the birthplace of new ideas and thus the birthplace of necessary change.

My ancestors might appear insane had they survived to see the madness that has cloaked the earth.   Fear has made a prisoner of many including those free-thinkers of the techno-age.  But the advancement of technology and intellect has long been abandoned as the mission of innovation.  Now it serves one master, the invisible dollar; invisible because actual currency only dwells in museums.  Your net worth, the sum of your value as a human being, is catalogued remotely and updated to a nanochip lodged in your tailbone.  The inventors of the barter system would spontaneously combust with anger were they alive today to see what their medium of measuring the material value of an item has now turned in to, a medium of power. 

Power.  Everyone wants it in some form or another.  Power used to belong to individuals with the most purchasing ability.  Some of those people used their monetary power to purchase fear in the form of weapons, and in turn that fear passed from the destitute all the way up to the highest seats of governments.  Governments were overthrown and chaos came to rule. 

I can hear the after effect of that fateful day on the surface just above me.  My underground lair is just below the street in a preserved World War II bunker.  The only signals able to penetrate this space are the archaic radio transmitters.  It’s weird how something could be deemed obsolete and later proves itself worthy of being invented.  Airwaves typically rarely interrupted the satellite data used by the Grazer Corp, the unholy equivalent of the messiah and the source of the trouble on the surface.  They aren’t a corporation at all.  They are greedy connoisseurs of intimidation and oppression and the human race is powerless against them.  And here I stand alone in the deserted plain, waiting to find the oasis, calm amidst the sea of chaos.  But no one said that time travel would be easy, not even that theoretical physicist guy back in the twenty-first century. 

-© C. Dominique Gibson

It has been a few months since the historic “once in a century” flood transformed Nashville, the heart of the Tennessee Valley, into one large lake.  And though it is relatively hard to tell that a flood even took place, remnants of the devastation still remain, small reminders that no one is exempt from catastrophe. Below is a photo of one of the farm dogs at school.  She is a beautiful creature- temperate, and patient.  She hangs out at the greenhouse now for two reasons.  First, it is deathly hot.  The day I took this photo it was about 96 degrees in the Music City.  There is a carport adjacent to the green houses and she lounges underneath it to get away from the suns molten rays.  I was thinking that one day, a few colleagues and I, should bring some clippers and a tin tub to give her a day of pampering.

The other reason she wanders around is because the school farm sits on the Cumberland River.  The proximity to the water body is ideal for irrigation however; it is potentially disastrous in the event of a flood.  After the rain cleared away, the Cumberland River crested at about 52.5 ft at the end of the flood, earlier that day the river reached 46ft.  Nearly all of the farm animals perished.  As a result, this beautiful herding canine, like most of the Opryland Resort employees, was left without a job.  Her companions and charges are no longer around to keep her company.  That said, I play with her every day I see her at the greenhouse.  She loves her belly rubbed and I am going to bring her a really large treat next week.  I don’t do it because I pity her, I do it because she is a survivor and I admire her courage.  Here is a poem I wrote for my furry friend.

Aftermath

Alone I walk in mud filled fields

Chasing away the coming rain

Riding out the great flooding storm

Gone just as quickly as it came

I walk along the broken wheat grass

As dusk approaches to steal twilight

An eerie wind whips round me

Singly lowly of this Silent Night

The old tattered road lies beneath the bridge

That floated way down the stream

I march on anyway relentlessly

My mind plagued with their frightened screams.

And like I did the day before,

I found nothing but wool and bone

I face yet another coming dawn

To wonder, where have all the good sheep gone?

-©2010 C. Dominique Gibson

Today, I shall make myself subject to ridicule by sharing with you my lame attempt at experimenting with different forms of poetry.  I usually free-style. However, the poem below explains why I should stick to my guns.  Without further digression, here it is aptly titled The Needy Sonnet , because it needs improvement LOLOLOLOLOL!

The Needy  Sonnet

There once was a time not long ago, when

You were my sun lighting the eastern sky

The universe revolved around you then

And since, my affections for you have died

You smiled so brightly while breaking my heart

I wonder had you cared for me at all?

Or was I the joke from the very start?

Blind- oblivious to the writing on the wall

The stinging venom flowing through my veins

Cannot compare to the black empty void

That was once my heart now forever stained

Unwilling victim of such a vicious ploy

And silly me, mourning the loss in spite

You think not of me and sleep well at night.

-© 2010 C. Dominique Gibson

THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY CURRENT WIP. I'M HAVING A BIT OF DIFFICULTY COMPLETING IT DUE TO SCHEDULE CONFLICTS. BUT, I HOPE I GET IT TOGETHER SOON.

Roe's breathing became labored.  She had been searching the cemetery for nearly thirty minutes and had yet to find Case.  Her eyes filled with tears as she realized she may have been too late.  Passing a mausoleum which held some famous socialite's body,  she froze when she saw him standing before a huge headstone.  She hesitated before approaching him. He looked solemn and reverent. Yet there was an air about him that betrayed the storm that was raging just beneath the surface.  Roe exhaled heavily as Leatherface began barking wildly. Case looked up to meet her gaze.

"So you come to me after you've made your deal with the devil?" he asked angrily. 

"What?"

"Don't play coy with me Roe! I know about R," he spat.

"How do you know?" she asked.

He laughed though not at all amused. "How do you think Roe?" she stepped back as he approached her, his eyes glowing.  "I've known him from birth, we all do."

"I don't know what you mean," she said softly ashamed and frightened. "What is he?"

"He's not human. None of us are," he replied low in his throat.

"What do you mean by us?"

 "I'm a vampire Roe," he said his incisors elongating before her.

Roe shook her head. "No! You have a skin condition. You told me," she protested shrinking away from him.

"So I embellished the truth a bit. You know it’s true."

She shook her head. "You're scaring me," she trembled.

"You should be frightened," he snapped growling low in his throat. Roe whimpered.  "I am a vampire Roe and I eat little girls like you for breakfast!"

-© 2010 C. Dominique Gibson

The Forgotten Thing                                                                                   987 words

The house on the hill sat in ruins, remnants of the systematic dismantling of the village of Mina’s birth.  It had been burnt to the ground during “the Black Curse” which had turned most of the population into mindless monsters.  Her relatives had perished along with the rest of the villagers at the King’s request.  Few of them had escaped and only because the Sorcerer wished to understand the mechanics of the curse. However, his methods of observation were synonymous with imprisonment and torture.  Mina thought nothing of their treatment until a letter arrived secretly delivered to her by the Sorcerer’s young apprentice who considered her a friend.  He had searched her village for other survivors at her request and found one, Damian.  At the mere memory of him, her absent heart quickened wherever it was.  She had petitioned the sorcerer that she may go back but he refused.  Realizing the truth, she escaped and returned to the only place she found familiar. 

Mina licked her palm and dragged it along her flesh before patting the hanging skin against it.  It was her good fortune that it remained in place.  As she approached the faint light of a candle flickering in the mid-spring breeze, apprehension filled her.  Would he be frightened by her condition, or would he welcome her as the friend he had known so long ago?  She preferred the former, for she could not bear the dismissal of the erratic state of her missing organs in his presence.  She would much rather that he feared her.

She entered the room, hiding herself in the shadows provided by the dancing flame on the window sill.  He stood next to it, the half-burnt curtain fluttering in the wind, concealing half of his frame.  He looked to her briefly, revealing a healthy cheek and a bright amber eye devoid of the red glow characteristic of the Black Curse.  Mina gasped at his beauty then sighed because of her hideousness.  How could she expect him to accept the flaws of her ever-decaying body? Disgust distorted his lovely living face as he resumed gazing at the starless, moonless sky. 

“You came,” he said barely a whisper.

“You did not think I would?” she asked.

“I did not think you could.  Surely the Sorcerer did not let you go,” he replied.

“He did not.  I escaped.”

“Did you now Mina?” he asked again chuckling, mocking her.  Had she tear ducts, she would have cried and even if, dead things could not cry. “The apprentice aided you, did he not?”

“Yes.  He is a great friend,” she replied looking at her feet.  “Did you not wish that I come?”

“Yes I did,” he answered seemingly preoccupied. “I have something you left behind.”

Ignoring his answer she spoke again. “Will you not look at me?”

“No!” he spat.

“Why?”

“Because I do not wish for you to see me as such!” he shouted.

“I do not understand,” she protested, confused by his disposition yet enamored by his beauty.  Unable to stop herself, Mina approached him.

“Do not come closer!”

“I’m afraid I cannot help myself,” she whispered, her fingers trembling, well what was left of the them.  He did not back away as she politely invaded his personal space.  She found it odd that she heard no pulse nor detected a heartbeat.  Reaching up, she palmed his cheek only to find the smooth, sharp-edged texture of jaw-bone.  She retracted her hand quickly, nearly severing her decomposing limb as he pulled his face away.

“You find me repulsive!” he growled.

“No.  I find you beautiful, as I always have.”

“You lie!” he shouted the candlelight flickering wildly.

“I would not,” she replied gently.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I love you,” she whispered looking down again.

“What did you say?”

“I love you.”

“No, you couldn’t possibly love, this,” he said facing her. The skin that covered his exposed chest was peeling away revealing rotting flesh, his face was half bone, and his arm was delightfully missing. 

“My heart does not beat,” she said softly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My heart does not beat.  And it is not because I live no longer but because the day we escaped was the day I thought I’d lost it.  Yet now, I know it is because I gave it to you.  And here,” she said patting his chest, “is where I left it.”

“Mina, I,” before he could protest, she brushed a gentle kiss on his lips which were surprisingly intact.  He returned her kiss with a passionate one of his own but was careful not to be rough.  They were both delicate and any body parts they still possessed were precious. “I have waited so long for this day,” he said as he pulled away.

“Truly?”

He nodded. “I loved you from birth, I loved you the day I died, and I will love you forever more,” he replied pulling her into his embrace.

“Damian?”

“Yes my love?”

“What did you have for me?” she asked curiously.

“Oh yes!” he replied, excitement lighting his single amber eye.  He retrieved something from the pocket of his trousers, wrapped in delicate lace.  He handed it to her.  She unclothed it slowly and gasped when she realized what it was.

“Where did you get this?” she asked shocked to find it still in tact and barely functioning.

“You dropped it the night you and the others escaped.  I found it and it has remained with me ever since.  I would have returned it to you earlier but I could not bear you see me like this.”

“Thank you, but I cannot keep it,” she replied.

“Why? Tis’ your heart.”

“It only beats when it is with you,” she replied smiling.  She re-wrapped it then gave it back to him. 

He smiled. “I love you Mina. Please do not leave me again.”

“Never,” she replied welcoming another kiss. 

- ©2010 C. Dominique Gibson

I think I might be a prolific writer, if I actually finished every project I’ve ever started.  This excerpt is taken from a project I started four years ago, and I may just have a go at it again in case I figure out what to do with it.  Toodles!!!

The wind rustled the trees and howled through the bushes.  Moonlight slipped through the leaves and kissed the ground below.  A silent ode to the night played in the distance as the field grass swayed in the breeze.  Beauty was everywhere.  The beach was just over the wall beyond a hedge of hibiscus blooms.  The landscape was exceptional.  Jaye leaned against the bark of the great Poinciana tree.  There was no point in leaving right now.  There was no rush to be anywhere else.  In fact, there was never any rush.  He liked being home and wished summer vacation would never end.  But of course, all good things must conclude.  He sighed.  He never really appreciated his little rock until now.  With a full moon above him, the tips of the grass beyond, the white sand caressing a brilliant turquoise that deepened into a transparent deep blue ocean, there was nothing that could pull him away.

He didn’t want any interruptions, but something would likely disturb his current encounter with nirvana.  He loved being alone at this spot.  No parents, no sisters, no friends, and no nagging girlfriends who simply could not comprehend the fact that HALO and Call of Duty were a vital part of a man’s life. And there it was.  Better yet, there she was.  Why did he have to think about Cindy? She ruined anything he enjoyed, wreaked havoc in his life, and derailed his train of thought.  Even now when she wasn’t around she was tormenting him.  And he dated her because of her immortal good looks. But her beauty was completely skin deep.  Nothing laid below the surface but broken glass and metal…debris.  The woman was so broken she was beyond fixing.  She had no depth, a rough personality and habits that would make a sailor blush and that was only the tip of the iceberg. 

- © 2010 C. Dominique Gibson

This poem was inspired by a haiku written by Mister Yojinbo. Hope you like it.

Freely, Madly, Eternally

Shall I tell you a story?

Of a time once before

When I was innocent, untainted, untouched and pure…

A time when love was arranged

When falling was only a fool’s delight.

I found myself trapped,

Betroved to another

One whose love stood denied-

The night when ember tears,

Fell from the weeping sky.

Such beauty in the fire

That fell gracefully round

Lighting a path before me as it met the ground,

Like a torch it led me to his lair…

And there he stood trapped

A dark brooding shadow

An angel of wings clipped

Silently wishing to brave the skies

Despite the chains,

Heavy at his feet…

He gazed up at me with the darkest eyes

Then held out his arms from which the fire came,

I rushed madly to them

Into the maddening heat of his embrace

And into his palm, he whispered sofly,

“Tongue of flame breaks free

Carried by your hearts desire

For eternity…”

And so the angel placed his curse … On Me

- ©2010 The Felonious Monk (haiku)

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- © 2010 C. Dominique Gibson