Idiot, Third Class

Deon Mumple, Idiot, Third Class.  Not even good enough of an idiot to be first class.  Or even second.  I read my hopeful shit when I’m feeling hopeless and it makes me feel even worse.  I read my hopeless shit when I’m feeling hopeless and it resonates but sounds stupid.  And I read my wacky shit when I’m feeling sad and sad when I feel wacky and all of it sounds stupid today.

All my readers (I used to be able to say “all 5 or 6 of you” but WordPress swears (FUCKFUCKFUCK! ha! you know you heard it too) there are over 180 of you) know I write your basic shit and it’s sometimes stress relieving to me.  I try to follow and sometimes comment and then I go back and read sometimes and it confirms my title.

I need someone to tell me when NOT to look at what I’ve written.  I like the “likes” on the blog, that sometimes encourages me, when I’m not in the shades of black that don’t reflect light.  Who knew “spider” was the name of a shade of black?  I didn’t.  Who knew there were shades of black?  I never gave it much thought.  Black is black.  Or is it?

Jet, Ebony, (These sound like the kind of colours that might make a good name for publications, no?) midnight, obsidian, I like raven as a shade but like obsidian, it might actually reflect the light, which means it’s not black enough to be black.  Charcoal isn’t really black, it’s grey.  Or is it gray?  When I’m in the shades of black that don’t reflect light, they don’t release it either, like a truly black black hole.  At the risk of starting something, two shades aren’t on the list of black hues:  black death & shark-black eyes.  They may be the same colour value, but you’ll never know, will you?  Especially when I turn out the lights.

My email is brimming with other people’s brilliant writing, and with other people’s smart, snarky, funny or encouraging comments on other people’s blogs that I follow poorly and try to read and keep up.  I’m about to delete 3,000 emails and I swear I am not making that statistic up.  I could delete 6,000 and they keep coming and today I don’t even care.

For today’s expression in poetry form, a black metal song (I wrote today):

Fade to Black Death, 5/3/2016, Deon Mumple

Black light, obsidian reveal
They aren’t really black the black I feel
Black light is purple and it’s light,
Embrace the blackness, blackness fight,

Cornered and losing, black-eyed pout,
Life fucking kills me, have no doubt.

Black in the clinches, bleed, boxed in,
Feeling my chances wearing thin,
I hear helplessly, my ten count,
I’m the poor in spirit, falling off the mount, (Matthew 5)

Mine is the kingdom of darkness,
When I fight I only make a bigger mess
Fade to black, death, when I’m knocked out,
Life fucking kills me, have no doubt.

How, why, do I live this midnight
Having no reason and no right,
Fucked in the blackness without love,
Blacker than a raven, black white dove,

Fade to black death, black wings, blackout,
Life fucking kills me, have no doubt.

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2 thoughts on “Idiot, Third Class

  1. I once named a black cat Onyx, because I am aware there are different shades of black. Like my hair dye is called blue black.

    Only black I am not fond of is that faded grayish my clothes get after so many washes. Charcoal is a shade of gray, not black, grrr.

    Liked by 1 person

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