OLWG# 312- I Ordered A Chicken And An Egg From Amazon. I’ll Let You Know.

Written for OLWG# 312

It was early evening in Bogalusa, LA when the small blue star, Andiroba, rose in the eastern sky. She was keeping a low elevation angle, barely clearing the horizon and visible for only a short time, but every night she was responsible for countless wishes.

You know the thing about “star wishes” don’t you?

I wish I may
I wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight.

Andiroba could see all the wishes scattered, and strewn, in front of her like gold nuggets. There were all sizes, shapes, and kinds of wishes. There were the smooth ones, cold ones, shiny ones, the furry ones. Some of the wishes were beautiful, others were twisted and deformed. Some were bundled in blankets, some were naked, but she saw them all. Andiroba, and Andiroba alone, got to choose which of the wishes she would grant and which to ignore.

She tended to pass on the ones made for spite or hoping for harm on others. She might honour the altruistic and selfless wishes for love, or peace, but not always. Andiroba did not want to become predictable.

“Keep ‘em Guessing” That was her philosophy.

Long life or true love
These were quick, pieces of cake
World Peace was less so

This weeks prompts were:

  1. songs about truckers and trucks
  2. the furry ones
  3. strewn like gold nuggets

OLWG# 311- Chesa

I’m a bit slow on this one as well, but finally got it written for OLWG# 311

Anyone who can, please help me out with the verse in Myanmar. Let me know if I got it right, thanks.

Chesa had to cover for me at work again yesterday, and she wasn’t very happy about it. There was nothing I could do, though, I was sick again. It was another bout of gastroenteritis and I could tell that I was going to be out for at least a week, maybe two. The vomiting brought on severe abdominal cramps and the diarrhoea was almost a clear liquid.

Chesa was a good friend, who even spoke a few words of English. Of course, she spoke Myanmar (Burmese). She spoke Shan and the Pwo, S’gaw variants of the Karen languages. Working the flooded fields was her choice; she preferred not to draw attention to herself. She preferred to keep the devil at bay.

more than the extra work
She likes the extra pay
I try to help        

      myanmar haiku

This weeks prompts were:

  1. call the Devil, partner
  2. rabble, aftermath, adhesive
  3. no one speaks English, here

OLWG# 310- The Battle with Temperance

I’m a bit slow on this one as well, but finally got it written for OLWG# 310

I had been on a bender. A long and particularly difficult debauch when I was rescued by the Union. It was ‘The Temperance Union.’ They, who took me under their wing and told me the stories of the Big Cheese. They showed me the error of my ways. When they got their hands on me, they began moulding me into a better man. They pulled me from the bars and speakeasies that had been my safe place for years. They took my bottle of clear amber heaven, my lover, my mother, and, in its place, they sold me truth.

The Temperance Union freed me from the demon flagons and the arms of evil women only to drop me gently into the embrace of my redeemer.

I have spent some time marching with the Union, and it has been a long time since I coaxed the cherished notes of my libations from an ancient Quaich cradled in my hands. It’s even longer since I ran my fingers down the spine of an unblushing woman. Since I surrendered to my desire,

I ache for my base and degenerate ways. I want to taste the kiss of a wanton lover. I want to fondle the bottom of a whisky bottle one more time.

The time is nigh for me to turn from my temperate ways, part with the Union that gave me solace when I needed it, and return to my wicked ways.

Snatched by interventionists
from self-imposed suffering
and eternal hell-fire,
I want to spin in the winds of my own damnation.

This weeks prompts were:

  1. the bars and the speakeasy’s
  2. they’re selling truth tonight
  3. so, now you know the difference

OLWG# 309- Mandrill Hordes

I’m a bit slow on this one, but finally got it written for OLWG# 309

Travelling mainly at night, we made our way down the back roads, avoiding the market towns where people gathered and taking our food from backyard gardens and rubbish bins behind shuttered markets and eateries. We worked slowly down from the hilly interior to the savannahs in the east.

We spotted them in Gabon, easily recognizable by their red and blue skin, which would sometimes glow in the moonlight. They travelled the same manner as ourselves, blanketed by darkness, without fire, sans unnecessary sources of light or noise, and no livestock. Like us, they foraged for food, stealing as necessary.

Somehow, they found us. Aggressively, they closed and destroyed our rear defences. Skillfully, they repelled our counter-assault with fierce combat. More than half our numbers were lost in a brief battle, lasting no more than ten or fifteen minutes. We were woefully unprepared; even I myself lost an eye along with three fingers from my right hand.

Those of us who survived; have scattered, separated, fleeing into the night; I fear that as individuals, or meagre factions, we are more vulnerable than before. I worry our very survival is no longer assured. If ever it was.

This weeks prompts were:

  1. somehow they found us
  2. market towns
  3. muzzle monkey

OLWG# 308- Mayfly

Written for OLWG# 308

It was late when the German freighter, Mayfly, tied up at the port of Kulay Rosa, on the West African coast. She was loaded with counterfeit auto parts and machine tools.

Able bodied seaman, Manfred Henszlein, stowed the deck gear and checked in with his boatswain, “An Land gehen, Chief. Sehe dich am Morgen.”

“Yep,” the boatswain grunted back at him, without raising his head.

Manfred shrugged his shoulders and left the ship. At the end of the brow he paused and pulled out his bag of Kurmark tobacco and papers; rolled a cigarette and torched the tip as he walked toward the front gate where he checked out and proceeded into town to find a smoky bar.

Herrengedeck,” he ordered (a glass of beer served with a shot of Korn). As the barman worked Manfred removed his jacket, pushed his cap back on his head, and laid a stack of US Dollars on the bar. Like any sailor in the word, he knew how to make himself comfortable in a drinking establishment. US currency was always good and Manfred used it so that he needn’t bother with changing money at every port.

He didn’t sit alone very long before Babatunde slid onto the seat next to him. Babatunde had his woman, Efua, with him hanging onto his shoulder even as she kneaded the muscles of Manfred’s upper back.

The negotiations began.

This weeks prompts were:

  1. where the sailors come in
  2. fair and square
  3. a smoky bar

OLWG# 307- Wasting Time

Written for OLWG# 307

Caminé desde Barcelona hasta la Plaza Mayor
porque nadie me amaba allí,
¡solo para descubrir que nadie me conoce aquí!

Walked from Barcelona to Plaza Mayor
because no one loved me there,
only to find out that no one knows me here!

This weeks prompts were:

        1. what I remember most
        2. nobody loves me here
        3. from Barcelona to Madrid


OLWG# 305- Tiny Stories & Observasjoner

Written for OLWG# 305

Behind the gauzy clouds shone a moon holding water. If it tips any further it’s certain to rain.


She was a natural blonde, Scandinavian descent; her whorl resembled nothing less than a triangle of soft scrambled eggs… only much more magnificent.


When the first shot shattered the front window, Liza turned out the light, upended the table and ducked down behind it. Gus dropped down to the floor, and bellied to the closet to retrieve the old Model 97 Trench gun that his dad had always kept there.

This weeks prompts were:

      1. behind the gauzy clouds
      2. runny eggs
      3. turn out the light

OLWG# 304- Compulsive Dynamite

Written for OLWG# 304

Benny, Luis, Jim, and Alicia attended various middle schools in Lancaster. They became friends and band mates when they wound up at Antelope Valley High School together. Benny played keyboards, Luis played the bass, Jim played rhythm on a six string, and Alicia. Well Alicia was a drummer; wasn’t she?

They called their band Compulsive Dynamite and they began to gain a following and a reputation. They played story music. That’s what Jim named it. The songs they wrote were about ordinary things. Things they did, or saw, every day. Sometimes they would embellish the song with the true story of what inspired it.

They got permission from Mr Pruitt, who owned River Street Grocers, to practice on the loading dock three times a week, at the market. Pretty soon they were getting gigs at school dances, cotillions, quinceañeras, birthday parties and the like. It was early spring of their their Junior year at AV High when Benny sent out a group text. He had gotten a call from some dude, named Artie, in LA who managed an indie band, Prosthetic. He asked Benny if Compulsive Dynamite played cover tunes, exclusively or if they wrote their own stuff.

“It depends on the gig.” Benny had told him. “We do both. School dances usually want cover tunes but we prefer to do our own stuff whenever possible.” He explained what they called ‘story music’ and sang some samples over the phone.

Artie seemed interested and asked if they would send a tape. Prosthetic was getting ready for a small tour and needed an opening act. It would be a short tour, for only four weeks in June. They planned on playing small venues between Bakersfield, Fresno, and San Luis Obispo. He had heard good things about Compulsive Dynamite, but needed to hear their sound.

This weeks prompts were:

      1. Bakersfield, Fresno, SLO
      2. drunk on self-pity
      3. a desire to be lonesome

OLWG# 301- Suspiciously Plausible, a Haibun

Written for OLWG# 301

Plausible deniability was simple to achieve as no one outside of Submarine Group One (Subgru 1) had any idea where the SS Lucifer had been during the storm; and none of the vessels that were lost, had been salvaged. The waters were deep and technology would have to advance significantly before the hulks could be recovered. That could be years and by then, probably no one would care anymore.

The whole scenario was a bit suspicious but there was no proof without the Lucifer; and Lucifer was currently running towards the pole at flank speed on her way to the green waters of the North Atlantic.

Again, the world stood
poised at the precipice and
could fall either way

This weeks prompts were:

    1. lost dogs, mixed blessings
    2. suspiciously plausible
    3. vagabond

OLWG #296 Maybe Verse of Some Sort

Written for OLWG# 296

Veronica Jones was a good girl attended church every Sunday morning a cheerleader and President of the Honour Society at Lakeside Academy for Girls, and a member of the Ambassador’s Club, too Somehow word got out that she was seen up on Preston Rd. with a boy, Tyler Hanson, Preston Rd. is little more than a dirt track that winds into the woods off Hwy 380 The kids use it You know… In a town this size, well, it didn’t sit well with folks around here the word is that even Faber College might be reconsidering the scholarship; previously proffered
The prompts were: 
      1. got a job, dealing faro
      2. she was a ‘good girl’
      3. in a town this size
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