Witch of the Eastern Skies

This is a story about man holding himself captive to the things he can't let go of.

The sky was pitch black with only the moonlight casting it's seductive glow upon man and beast as they danced through the wild of the angry jungle. The tomcat pranced all around his master and enticed him with his golden eyes, if only to reveal to him the true essence of the soft wind's grace as it weaved in and out of his golden locks. Here comes the tigress with her womanly desires as she intertwines her mesh in the fold of the lightening rod. The frequency of these shockwaves could be heard from all around the world, as the radio announcer chats up his usual creed to his masses of followers who pay homage to the diseased minds. Corruption brews inside the tunnel behind the mask of the white falcon who is succombed by the fragile nuance of angelic voices. "Ring in the call of the fountain, my Lord. For your nourished minds shall forever dwell behind the veil of their own insecurities, because they can't let go of who they were. For they need to embrace holistic waters from your crying eyes, and drink of the soot to wash away their desolate roads. With each one there comes a green leaf that holds in its hands the hours of majestic waves of new horizons yet to be taken in this folly of withered souls."

On go the monkeys who swing from branch to branch and tree to tree to find their meal for the neon of the fatherly winds. Shielding towers create thunder across the opaque sky. For the dancers of the wind devour man whole with cyclonic wolves who carve this meaty mass and pass it around to the hungry pack. The mistress of the dawn launches a fire that burns through the wicked, and cremates ceramic minds. For these soldiers of fortune consider their options before they can foster their divine shields. The soldier of the thunder calls out to the she wolf and says, "Behold, Witch of the Eastern Skies, I am the glow of the enchanted arms. It is not foretold to me of the endless dreams that survey the spirits of man. For the sun and the moon now unite against you as they show their bold faces in unison. I shall unite this unholy tarp with my bones, and create a tomb for my body who jumps into the flames with me and eats up your last breath. My frigid soul is no longer dancing in the fluffy, white, snow. I feel the flames' desires. For these are candid showers. Lilacs come into bloom, when I can no longer feel the rain. Elated rhythms pulsate inside my glass mind. I believe in one power. I'm talking about the light that is alive within me. Shepherd, guide me home. I want to find the holistic dome. Crush my crop of corn into your porridge. Save these melodic fields for the one who is in need. I will stop the drums that pound inside your head. Feel your way under the covers of my anguished spirit that melts into the crazed sun. Your are the glowing embers that tantalize thrashing winds. For your fixated gaze is seeking out the Lord's tabernacle choir of angels to carry away his remembrance."

Where the dawn foregoes a new day, the night surrenders to misty eyes enticed by sugar walls that planted their humble seeds inside the womb of Mother Earth; yet the wind dances around naked trees who once fed off of soulful tears. Rewind these seductive visions. For I have many tales to tell of man's jaunted dreams. There once was a frog that leapt from lily pad to lily pad, consuming his treasured meal. The rains blanket his somber body, and flood the earth with his dwelling filled with fear. Seedy moons take on the task of soliciting his overflowing waters to dance to traumatic rhythms that beat down upon marshy doors. Forever becomes a new song when he plays on his piper's pipe with care, but he never dares ice up his notes of sour grapes so fair.

Author's Note

What do you think of the monolauges?

Reviews

[Lyndie Bolt aka JustRac..]

I am utterly confused. After re-reading this 3 times I am still trying to figure out exactly what this "story" is supposed to be about. it appears that the first paragraph is supposed to tell of a man's dreams just prior to his radio alrm clock goes off. Second is dawn's fight with the unwilling but surenduring night unto day. The third is dreams retreat. I am usually pretty good at getting this type of writing and can even compose it (not my vavorite genre tho!), but this seems forced. It would have done better written as a poem (with editing of course).

Sentences taken seperately with no context are 95% melodic in structure, BUT seem to be strung together with out a true purpose. It seems as if you are trying very hard to write in a Hemmingway or F, Scott Fitzgerald-ish manner. Both writers had their moments of rambling wordiness. Unfortunately the thoughts or imagy behind your words has me feeling like I stepped into a schizophrenics mind. You mix tenses which can be done, but in this case is very confusing. Some of the imagry could use reworking to make the ideas less obtuse.

You will probably find me one of your toughest critics. This isn't because I don't like your writing, but because I actually see potential.

Lyn

[Anita B Jacques]

My mind couldn't take it and had to stop half way. emotionless confusion.

[Spit_and_Prayers]

This story wow's almost to the point of sensory overload, I do not think I have seen so many metaphors so artfully strung together like that before in all my reading. There is some much going on here, I feel the English minor in me stirring and the desire to write a paper on this and analyze it closely is ever so compelling. Your poetry reads as stories, and now I find you stories read as poetry. A brilliant blend if I do say so my self. The text seems to ebb and flow like a sea of meaning and emotion and it would take me a long time to figure out everything that is going on here. I could just keep writing on this one, which so far is the most intriguing of yours that I've read, but I must leave the floor open for the thoughts of others.

Keep writing, and I'll keep reading.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This has the feeling of a fable or a parable, something with a deep inner meaning woven in textures that are layered one upon another to weave a tapestry of subtle beauty. You have a great talent for using words, both in your descriptive usage and in providing a relation between separate aspects of the whole. All things are relative after all and if we seek out those connections we have the reader sitting transfixed in understanding that now, they too have become a part of the story...swallowed by the fish they came to catch so to speak. Great stuff.

[Victoria Chang]

This is fascinating and interesting. The way you use words...It's very nice.

[Eagle Cruagh]

You will find writing that is primitive (mine).
Some writing is classical and some is
technical. Your writing is sophisticated.
Of all the glowing, descriptive imagery, this is
the best I have read.
Suggestion:
Between each thought double or triple space.
The spacing enables the vision plus it makes the
reading easier and more pleasant.

On a scale of 1 to 10 , this piece is a ten.

----- Eagle Cruagh

[Don Haller]

The imagery of this piece is amazing. Great job.

[J.Black]

This is really well written. I think you choose wonderful vocab that really captures what you are trying to say. I'm not exactly really bright when it comes to wordy vocabulary, but I think you were trying to have a deeper meaning that the reader was not suppose to get right off the bat. Only thing is, try and stick with one tense, either the past, present or the future. Try not to change it around so much, you may confuse the reader. Over all, I liked it. You are a good writer.

[thecoolone52]

the vocab is pretty good........ you did a excellent job with the vocab.......... the only thing is i get lost a little....... becus its so strong.......... thanks for entering my contest

[Samuel Dickens]

As one who speaks and writes plainly, making little use of metaphors and allegory, it was not an easy read for me, but I think that may be your goal. Not to confuse folks like me, of course, but to write in a particular style rich in veiled meanings. Your skills are formidable-- I only wish I had more educated and perhaps younger ears.