Vonnegut’s Prescription

(Photo Credit: Sue Vincent)

Knowing neither the subtleties of similes nor a metaphor’s essence

Casting aside logic and caving not to rationale and its neat set of rules;

With impulse for a cause and spontaneity as a natural consequence

The heart charts an unpredictable destiny using its own set of tools.


Inventing the arrow, Artificial Intelligence and everything in between

Paying obeisance to cold protocol, laws of nature and the tenets of mass assembly

With competition for siblings and monopoly as off-springs to continue the reign

The brain creates its own future observing neither the dictates of glory nor infamy.


Castles built by the calculating machinery of the head lay destroyed by the complex mechanisms of the heart

While Fantasies woven by an energetic and love-struck heart are rend asunder by a ruthless head;

Reconciling the tug and push of these two warriors calls for the mastery of an ancient and painful art

A task that has left many a component of humanity confused, tired and at times even dead.


A dose of John Steinbeck for the mind & a generous measure of Scott Fitzgerald for the soul

Vonnegut to calm racing thoughts and Hemingway to lend a measure of equanimity

Orwell in the morning and Huxley at night in an attempt to plug the gaping hole;

Always having the antidote of Dostoevsky to guard against the perils of dangerous vanity.

This is a response to the #writephoto Prompt – Imagination curated over at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. Click on the link to read other stories inspired by the image.

Possibilities Infinite

hill cresting cp

(Photo Credit: Crispina Kemp)

It was his path of spontaneous creation and crushing doom

A way that had for passengers the siblings, hope and despair

This was the trail where blazing light merged into fearful gloom

Imparting the quintessential lessons of life, whether bitter or fair.


On many days he had walked holding her hands with a spirit unshackled

While on other days he was the solitary reaper, walking towards a destination unknown

The woods had reverberated with their laughter, so pure and unburdened

The trees now bear testimony to his screams of pain which in intensity have grown.


The whispering wind carries with it a treasure trove of tales so tantalizing to parse

The beaten tracks hide within their ruts the power of a thousand possibilities and myths;

Trees gnarled and twisted under whose shade he lay with her counting the shiny stars

He still continues stumble along the path and its widths.

(Word Count: 150)

Written as part of the Crimson’s Creative Challenge #10 More details regarding this challenge may be found HERE.

A Mirror Image of who he once was

“Hopes that soar too high have their wings clipped” was Ash’s warning to him

 But set was his sights upon an island of faith towards whose shores his heart                       began to swim;

“Blame me not for the darkness, for I have tried to show you the light”

The fantasy and foolishness of love had him in its grip as to the finish he was ready to fight

Now a man undone, a wreck unraveled and a visage of chaos that has come to pass

Alas, what would Venky give up to be even a Mirror Image of Who He Once Was


Fools indeed do rush in where even angels fear to tread

Here he was plunging headlong into the abyss to her undisguised dread;

“It is not me but yourself that you are depriving of a choice”, she had begun to plead in vain

When has a heart that has lost itself to the lures of passion ever felt the pain?

Now moulded by anxiety and made malleable by agony, lost it all he has

Will Venky ever be even a Mirror Image of Who He Once Was


Every footprint of time has a story to tell

Some of which induce a chill down the spine whereas some cause tears to swell;

“The arrow of time once released knows neither guilt not passion” was her prophesy

Ignoring at his own peril her words of wisdom, he now finds no mercy

Fated to fall and probably never to rise again, facing a destiny callous and crass

Venky will never again be even a Mirror Image of Who He Once Was


Written as part of the December Writing Prompts organised by https://puttingmyfeetinthedirt.com/category/writing-prompts/


  • An Apple Watch to adorn his wrist with a Beats to blast songs into his ear

         X Box in place to provide diversions and a cocooned world to remove every fear;

         Substituting both intelligence and books, he has his soulmates in Siri and Echo

         His insatiable greed for gadgets puts to shame even the notorious Gordon Gekko

         Technology at his fingertips, he had gizmos aplenty too

         But mechanical and soulless, he was an automaton of habit to be true

  • The gleaming Samsung Smartphone from whose keypad his fingers never come unstuck

          Downloading “apps” galore, his poor roving eyes need mustering perennial pluck;

          In sync with the times his language morphs into tablets and smooth surface

          He flips across dating portals, never realizing his scruples and true love efface

          Ensconced in a warped world, he had gizmos aplenty too

          To say that he was a slave to a billion microchips would be too very true

  •  Sacrificing selflessness at the altar of a gazillion selfies

           Investing hard earned money on silicon sticks to improve the quality of ‘wefies’;

          A day without gadgets is for him the coming of a dreaded apocalypse

          Not for him the gentle walks of Thoreau or Humboldt’s awe inspiring trips

          Ticking off his bucket lists, he had gizmos aplenty too

          In the larger scheme of pure life, he was alas a poor victim of marketers’ glue




Beer For Life

Draw deep from a glistening bottle to celebrate that perfect kiss

Steadily down yet another one to mourn a near miss;

Washing away remorse and repentance with a tower of Heineken

Let your hair down and hit the floor as the party has just begun

Bottoms up for the sorrow, nice and easy for the strife

Dude there ain’t a problem as long as there is beer for life

Monday is for Hoegaarden and a night with Erica

Tuesday is a date with destiny and don’t forget Jessica;

Wednesday is Sarah’s turn with a pint of Kilkenny

Thursday evening is Tiger time as promised to pretty Jenny

Bottoms up for the sorrow, nice and easy for the strife

Dude there ain’t a problem as long as there is beer for life

Friday flavour is Cider and in my arm’s rests Kay

Strongbow and Sandy lure my Saturday & to their temptations I give way;

Sunday is a day of rest and a day to welcome Adele

To clear the table and make some room for the lovely Bombardier ale

Bottoms up for the sorrow, nice and easy for the strife

Dude there ain’t a problem as long as there is beer for life

One for the pose, one for the tease and one for tomorrow’s Facebook upload

One for the toast, one for the treat and it’s time for the ones for the road

The final ones however are for the drivers of the train, tram, bus and taxis that we call

For we need to be deposited home safe and sound for the pub again to see us all

Bottoms up for the sorrow, nice and easy for the strife

Dude there ain’t a problem as long as there is beer for life

Noon, morning, twilight or at the ushering in of dawn

The time for hauling in a heavy crate is almost always on;

When at any time you hear the loudest and longest cheer

It would be for the setting of sight upon lovely beer

Bottoms up for the sorrow, nice and easy for the strife

Dude there ain’t a problem as long as there is beer for life 


Tracing the tendrils of cigarette smoke wafting up into thin air

An overwhelming loss scythed through him as he stared into the harsh sun’s glare

While the dead stay alive in eternal sleep, the living are but the disguised dead

The most powerful and profound words are those that remain unsaid

There wasn’t no time for fear or anger or even to let loose a helpless sigh

Nor was left a dreaded little note with just the word ‘goodbye’

Like the ravaging silence that follows a heartless wrecking storm

Mindless of his silent tears and anguished pleas, she just decided to be gone.

Oblivious to the trickling sand in the hourglass of passing time

Living blissfully enraptured in a fateful song with its own haunting rhyme

“It just takes a spark to ignite a burning flame” once said a man of eminence

Woe betide the one who creates the innocuous spark, but fails to assimilate the flame’s essence

Engulfed by a burning inferno, he was the ill-fated Dante about to lose his Beatrice

Totally incapable of creating a ‘Divine Comedy’ to even explain his caprice

Like a graceful eagle which with strong wings, soars high and on and on

On a bright and sunny morning, she just decided to be gone.

People covet the most which they know they will never get

Still driven by burning desire and a raw passion that knows no let

The moment he set sight on her, for him it was a Faustian bargain

Where pleasure was the same as pain and pain fused into false gain

Why don’t people refuse to realize that they do have a choice?

Does something scramble up their thinking, something like pure white noise?

On a day when the mist faded and the sun came blazing out from its horizon

Leaving him high and dry, she just decided to be gone.

When the time for him to meet his Maker finally came

Fluttering eyelids barely remaining open, his quivering lips uttered her name

A sudden voice resonated from deep within and he felt a new hope surging on

“She was always within you and where else could she have even gone!”

A tired but radiant smile across his peaceful countenance broke

Before his eyes finally closed on life’s material yoke

The voice became a visage and the visage beckoned him to follow on

“All along it was you who willed that I just be gone!”