Lift Like Trumpets and other 100 word vignettes

Lift Like Trumpets

As is a custom of Capitalism,
The needy, on a given festival day,
Discard their rags
In favor of wealthy attire
To then go around the streets
Mocking and abusing whomever they meet
And giving vent
To their natural frustrations.

And they shout aloud, not holding back. They lift their voices like trumpets; declare to the world the transgressions of the wealthy, of the Stock Exchange their contrivances. Some well dressed needy quietly seek the wealthy out to tell them they are beacons of righteousness and goodness, in the hope they might secretly set up charities in their names.


The Mercy Seat

He is God
Said the madman
To his psychologist.
Prove God said he
And the madman said no
Thus he was let go
For who is to say
Delusion is no belief.

He set up a tent calling it the Holy Place. In it stands a lamp and on a blanket are the remaining crusts of His Presence. There stands an Urn covered on all sides with blue plastic, and within a plastic cup holding His Mind, and the Scripts of his Treatment. Above it are the cherubim of sanity. His chair he calls the Mercy Seat.


Sugar Piles

Upon the spot of death
A pile of sugar lay.
Upon the coffin’s head
A pile also lay
For there is nothing worse
Than fond memories
In this period of grief.

Those who promise to wipe away every tear from sorrowful eyes, making death no more, and decreeing there shall be no mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore for the former things which have passed away, are dismissed. Instead there will be physical memories, and if need be cuts and tattoos on bodies. Then nothing is scattered, nothing is lost, nor is melancholy forgotten.


The Gender Determines It

There was a time
When the mother
Kept her mouth shut
During childbirth,
An impossible task
One might say
But her energies were needed
In the talking jungle.

There she negotiates her fate. For if she bears a male child then she shall be unclean for seven days. As at the time of her menstruation, she shall be unclean. And on the eighth day the male is circumcised. If she bears a female child, then she shall be unclean for two weeks as in her menstruation, and then continue her purifying for a further month.


Mum As the Artist

Breasts drawn on a boy asleep
Is no mischief,
For when this boy wakes
His transgender dream fulfills
The boy’s wish
That he will now be
Quite different
To what he was born as.

For his thoughts are his drawer’s thoughts, for his ways are the others’ ways, declares he now to herself. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are his drawer’s ways higher than his ways as indeed were the motives. And one day his mother will reveal herself as the one who drew, for she had always wanted a beautiful daughter.


Flying Spittle

In a conversation between
Two women
Spittle flew from out the mouth of one
And the other, upon seeing her distress
Found it
And upon returning it to her
Saw that her brief sickness
Was no more.

How sweet had been their words to each other. Sweeter than pure honey to their mouths. Whatever is now true between them, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, they will think about these things from now on.


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