all writing on this page is © NORIEL ACORDA
Noriel Acorda Book II of original ideas conceived in the cranium of Noriel V. Acorda. Started on June 29, 1992. Time to lash out, time to explode, time to party. It's the magical mystery tour put on paper.
Read aloud, they strike out. Silent -- They wither and Die!
June 29, 1992
Ah, I like the resurgence of my little notebook.
This is a lovely occurrence.
My sword has been found and sharpened;
it is time now for my attack. The clueless lambs shall be my
target. The problems of the so-called
society shall become my enemies.
And I shall truly wage war against these pathetic miscreants --
they will know no rest.
My trumpet has sounded for allies and
I expect to receive them.
The summer is a power generator
which shells out power for my
stabs and thrusts.
The Government will fall
and I'll be there to laugh at the ashes and say,
"I told you so."
.....
June 30, 1992
Red exit into the vast vacuum of space;
enter boldly into the cold darkness of that cold environment.
Ride your golfcart into the red fire hydrant
and watch it spew forth life giving waters
which sentence death to the baptismal fires.
Take a soul journey in yourself without moving.
No visas needed here, so kick out the ambassadors.
Watch the blue monkeys fly with ease through the yellow trees
while the dark sun shines dimly overhead.
The curtain calls so make a timely exit
into the depths of the darkness.
.....
June 30, 1992
The time to rise is now -- we have had enough.
.....
July 29, 1992
There you sit; watching, waiting, waiting for her.
You know, her.
So you sit and sit and wait and watch
and keep an eye out for her.
She's coming and you know it.
Hell, you feel it inside that
she'll make her appearance.
But there's only one problem --
you have no idea when she'll show up.
Sure you wait in nervous anticipation
of the golden moment,
but there's no telling when she'll arrive.
Alas, a crack of light shines through the darkness--
There she is.
A walking earth angel.
You can't see her wings, but you know they exist;
You've felt the way she's made you fly before,
you can vouch for that.
She doesn't walk, instead, she glides across the ground,
The earth isn't fit to touch her feet,
so she traverses in a hovering walk.
Only you can see the halo floating above her beautiful head.
Her visage could have only been created
by the hands of a skilled sculptor.
Her beauty embraces near-perfection
for she's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.
Her flowing hair glints of gold
and it dances in the air in an intricate aerial ballet with the wind.
The curls come along with the sun in such a way to reveal their 24 karat luster.
You're sitting there watching and enjoying your new found pastime.
You could sit here for hours,
but she has to be somewhere soon,
so you just savor the moment of her presence and thank yourself for your vigilance.
Stepping back from the dreamscape,
you realize you don't know her name.
So you walk up to the angel,
look her in the eyes and ask for her appellation.
The angel meets your gaze, smiles,
and quietly whispers her name in your ear.
For some strange reason you have this crazy feeling that you've known it all along.
The angel smiles again and walks away.
There you are,
standing with a grin
and your heart on your long sleeve flannel shirt.
You know where to sit tomorrow;
and you're already there.