Scarlet pecker



Of music and soul

Mozart, Beethoven and Chopin never died

They simply became music

What a romantic idea that is

For something from within you to live beyond you

As if to snip a branch of your soul

Have it planted into the ground

So it blooms into something of such immense beauty

That it is nurtured and nourished by the hands of humanity

By the people it touches

By those who experience it

To simply become music… 

What a charming idea that is

Up and away

We’ve been hiking for hours Mr. Orion
This bag is starting to feel like a heavy stone
And you haven’t slowed down one bit
Can’t we stop for like five minutes?
Orion chuckled
My apologies Darius, but we have to get there or we’ll miss the best part
You know you remind me of something from when I was a child
My mother used to tell me the story of Sisyphus
The king who was punished to push a boulder
Up a hill only to watch it roll down repeatedly forever
As a kid, I was always quite active
Maybe borderline hyperactive
I remember winters growing up in the country side
The snow would cover everywhere in thick blankets of white
We would go to the hill in the morning pulling our sleds
We would drag them up the hill for at least 10 minutes
Only to slide all the way down for a few seconds
I remember doing that till the sun came down
But all I ever spoke about were the epic rides
Even though they’d be impossible without the burning thighs
As they walked along the plateau, the vast openness started to reveal itself, the light from the sun shallowly skated along the surface of the waters in a shimmering glare. The sun had just met with its reflection at the horizon to form a golden figure 8 and the waves applauded against the rocky shores.
Tell me Darius, isn’t that a sight worth the burning thighs?
Let go of the boulder and open your eyes

For schezuan

We stared at the green blanket of land stretching to the horizon
Interrupted abruptly by the magenta sky and clouds of cotton floss
What would you stay alive for?
What would you wake up for?


For groggy sunrises and exhausted sunsets
And the sweet pain of new beginnings
For Scooby snacks and Schezuan sauce
For the dripping wax off Icarus
Or the futile acts of Sisyphus


Perhaps fulfilling dreams of San Junipero
And whistling down streets of Eldorado
For open roads and destinations unknown
For the curious and serendipitous glow


What’s it all for?
For honey pots and schezuan sauce
For strands of cheese clinging to the pizza box
For the dying thoughts of Maximus
And golden drops of the falling sun