Welcome my blog. The intention is to publish every piece of writing that I have churned out for the past 10 years. Some pieces have a story behind the story, some lyrical poems have become songs. We have hundreds of poems, stories, songs, lyrics, and life musings. Subscribe and every Monday receive a story to start off your week. Art is created by Amina & AI.
All perfection ever did was get us nowhere faster.
Even worse, when we got there,
we where ushered in to a prison of complete
and mind numbing predictability
from which there was no escape,
tears, laughter or serendipity.
Derek Earl Houghton
Thirty years ago her thighs opened
like windows over a rose garden.
Time passed.
Over the years the window frame
was painted over many times.
The windows as a result would no longer open
The rose garden thereupon grew wild.
There was no-one any longer to tend it
Derek Earl Houghton
Debbie
At sixteen he wore an afro and granny glasses
He leaned in doorways like Linc from Mod Squad
sullen monosyllabic studied insolence.
He would skip math with Debbie.
Debbie was his best pal.
Years later he realized she was Japanese.
They would cross the
street to Jimmys Restaurant in a tiny run down suburban mall.
ditch their brown paper bag lunches
and order instead, french fries with gravy,
two cream donuts and cherry cokes.
Debbie was the editor for the high school year book.
Instead of math class, they would sit at Jimmys
and pretend to understand Sarte.
She shoe horned his poems about jacking off and
pissing blood and phallic trains in tunnels into the poetry corner .
He hated the poetry corner.
She was a Kamikaze Pilot of Poetry and
he was Shaft, a black secret agent in tight leather pants.
She knew he wanted to crash and burn
and she was happy to help.
At times it seemed she maybe even wanted
to crash and burn with him.
Such was their suicidal bond.
They never had sex . That was regrettable.
Their intimacy was severe in nature . They traded pain
and they would have merged like vampires
had they traded bodily fluids.
Virgins never know how to unbutton buttons and
lower zippers. They think it’s embarrassing.
Later they will learn sex has nothing to do with friendship.
Sex, at least the good kind of sex, is always predatory.
It was all worth it if you could dive bomb a few
war ships, and be an international spy over
chocolate cream donuts and cherry cokes.
Derek Earl Houghton