A Black Cat Moment, The Missing Titan, Part 4

The New Titanic

“Waste, modern heirs, your infamy!” cries she

With open eyes. “Give me your greedy, your rich,

Your quiet few lusting to die freely,

The cheerful consent of your barren flight.

Plunge these, the prosperous, trouble-free to me,

I yank their pride into the murky light!”

A Black Cat Moment, The Missing Titan Part 3

Dear Missing Five,

Is your curiosity whetted now? It killed YOU.

Do you find now my dead minions entertaining? They killed YOU.

Do you see now my Oceans Kingdom have been nothing more than an active open grave? They own YOU.

Do you like now how your soul is sea floating? God owns YOU.

Do you see now you can’t see your bite-sized sushi bits of your human flesh? I own YOU.

A Black Cat Moment, The Missing Titan Part 2

Dear Missing Titan,

Has this been your way to bomb me with love?

I ask you for I have much been enjoying counting the number of ways you have kept mentioning my name.

Let’s see.

Sea floor.

Sea base.

Sea bed.

C-17.

High seas.

Let’s wait and see.

Deep-sea mapping.

Deep-sea search.

See what I mean?

But you won’t understand you keep disturbing a large section of my Oceans Kingdom.

Two ultra high resolution videos?

I don’t like light.

I don’t want to hear your man-made machines.

The only sounds I want to hear are the clangs and clatter of my claws against your steel-built sunken ships.

Finders keepers.

And no. Those thumping sounds as signs of hope came not from them.

You see, I lulled them first with watery music before I crushed them all to death.

A Black Cat Moment, The Missing Titan Part 1

Dear Missing Titan,

How misled you were.

You attempted to compete with me.

You did not know my dark depths.

You wanted to know, so you chose to trespass.

Breathless, you were left.

That should now teach others to never build a vessel to control the pitch-black sea.

There are no miracles here.

I govern the bottom. They are all mine.

They are all my Oceans Kingdom.

Foolish to drop the line and come see me without having had an invitation.

Now, like those who have gone before you, your crushed, dried, and wrinkled flesh are mine for keeps to swallow and play.

A Black Cat Moment

I found a paper bag the whistling wind blew my way. It had no handle, no hold. It was empty inside, no purpose, no fold. I decided to pick it up from where it had been flown and walk with it to the market.

We went up and down the vegetable and fruit aisles and basked in the beauty of the the reds, the yellows, and the greens nature had made. We decided we’d help each other along the way. I would fill the paper bag with colorful purpose, and it would hold safely my nourishment for that day.

But when we arrived at our blue house, I felt in my arms the paper bag fold. I thought I may have filled up its belly too much with the reds, the yellows, and the greens nature had made. Quickly, beside my violet-draped kitchen window, I sat the paper bag atop the grey counter to comfort the little one. Suddenly, a cold, swift breeze blew down my paper bag onto my kitchen floor and along with it rolled the reds, the yellows, and the greens nature had made.

A Black Cat Moment : Faith and Fire

For Bridget Bishop

Salem’s demonic mobocracy hides behind the mask of melancholy. The receipt of her married life had been intertwined between faith and fire. However, it was Satan who baptized her faith through fire.

God commanded: “You must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it, you will certainly die.” It would always be an expression shown by a conflict of will. His sweet-tongued flattery resolved Eve’s resistance. Satan cried, “Queen of this Universe! do not believe.”

Thus, all God-created souls succumbbed to an evil-fixed faith baptized in fire.

A Black Cat Moment: A Letter from Feathers to Her Soulmate, Part 2

Printed Permission Granted by His Majesty Pluto

My Orpheus,

Your love for me was so deep. Down to Hades to save me you traveled from the upper crusty world, that place where our brief marriage had soon ended. We did not have Hymen’s eternal blessing. Or, did we? Yet, unlike those two lovers whose crossed stars prophesied passion for each other would twistedly result in a deathly love-violence, theirs suffered a short-lived love that never bore fruit.

And so I write you to say our marriage never ended, but rather became transformed into other forms of beauty by other souls who, centuries later, learned about our tragic love story. So moved by our story were they that poems, books, and movies, have been apotheosized over and over by those strangers. Their vision about us became our borrowed flesh to love again…become one lit flame again.

Alas! There was one throughout history, a non-believer, who could not understand love. He was Plato. What wintry words he did use to judge our love. He once defined twin flames as the other’s half. No. That was and still is not true! I was not your half, nor were you mine. We were one. He spewed hideous accusations. He could not accept your journey to Hades’s soul’s purpose was to save me from death–twice! My Orpheus, not only did Plato remark our love was not real, but he also labeled my lifeless body an apparition! He dismissed you as cowardly. Men such as Plato know nothing about tender love. Their rigid reasoning rejects them from diving deep into the sea. Those men philosophize about love and then gall to call it true wisdom.

Our love was at first sight. Apollo did bless you with a lyre to charm me with your love. I became id-pleased and willingly indulge you with kindness. Your heart jolted to want to hold me. It was just your sweet readiness towards me that breached Hades’ trust. But never you mind all that now! Always remember, ’twas your music playing that charmed and charged the black gods and melted their senses.

Orpheus, our love is not an image defined by our deaths. Our love has only been transformed a story that endures in the arts. You could argue our mortal departure of each other became a sorrow sweetened in death. Now I hear the bells which means I must go back and tend to our fragrant garden.

I shall meet you by the oak tree.

My Orpheus, I love you and leave you.

Always kindled,

Eurydice, your feathers

The Figure Eight

Scene III. [The Bar’s Ladies Loo.]

Enter BLACK CAT, sola.

BLACK CAT

His Majesty thinks I may be weak willed about supporting Feathers’ empty efforts at wanting to love her soulmate. He’s wrong. This common room I thought was just a line of ordinary stalls. It looks and feels like a silky lounge. What a soft, lovely red glow the lights shine against the papered walls and velvet draperies. Would very much like to sit here for sometime, but I really do have to contact Feathers now about Pluto’s visit. I’m right about His Majesty’s ulterior motives here. Why would His Majesty Pluto push this anti-God agency against Feathers? He wants Feathers with her soulmate who’s nothing more but a devil in heat. I know what Feathers’ soulmate wanted from her all along. I know about his whore-infested coterie members. I know what they do and why they prey upon women like Feathers. They will never steal her light. They hate her angelic light while at the same time want it. And for what? That’s how they heal themselves from their sick deeds against humanity. They would a sick animal slay just to wash their hands in its warm blood afterwards. That is how these empty shells make themselves feel alive.

Exit.