Sunday, 21 December 2025

Katakartanaq

 


Ineffable beauty.
Walking out on winter solstice morn,
Splintered sunlight cast like glitter
on the bosom of deep snow.

Katakartanaq* under boots;
nostrils crackling with cold;
deep freeze.

Silence of the birds.
Waxing liminal moon visible.
Crackling twigs underfoot and
trunks splitting with a bang.

Seasonal splendor of frigid inhaled breath.
Wild animals at the door seeking food and drink, 
grateful for any shelter,
seeking survival.

 Azure sky bereft of comforting clouds.
So bright that the stars are obscured.

Joyously  arriving back home,
into the warmth.
Fingers, nose and toes frigid.
Boots, coat, scarf, hat, gloves discarded.

Fleecy slippers on feet, 
hot cocoa in hand,
seated near fireplace
cat on lap,
Yuletide music on a loop.
Solstice adventure complete.


* Inuit word for crunchy snow


©Ellen Pepper 2025
image: dreamstime.com

Tuesday, 16 December 2025

Remove the blindfold

 


To those who still believe him.

Remove the blindfold.
Open your eyes and mind to the truth.
Who is the Greatest Deceiver?
 Who is the father of lies and a master of deception?
Who is the most cunning and manipulative?

It's that man, hiding in the gilded office.
He's unable to speak truth.
He captures minds with deceit and hatred.
He rules for now, but will die.

When that day finally comes,
Rejoicing will abound through hill and dale.
Through slums, cities, countries and
perhaps the entire universe will heave a sigh of relief.

Others have described his evil
far better than I am able.
Others have died due to his falseness
and cavalier cruelty.
Others have been broken in spirit
by his brazen ruthlessness.

Others are still transfixed by his false glamour,
they see him as charismatic - 
even while they suffer his inequities 
and foolishness.

He breaks people with casual brutality.
He is incapable of love or joy.
The pain of others galvanizes him.
The only comfort now is knowing 
that he must die.
And, about that, he'll probably lie.

No matter for whatever reason he came here,
He's no longer needed on this journey.
He's done more than enough harm.
Remove your blindfold.
Open your eyes. 

 
©Ellen Pepper 2025

Image: tr.pinterest.com
©Ellen Pepper 2025

Friday, 12 December 2025

...til the day I die

 


 "I'll love you til the day I die."
His final words under the apple tree as he took his leave.
He was off to the big city to try out for a band.
For years, he'd promised her a home, a family,
a house, a farm and his eternal love.
But first, he needed to earn enough to make this possible.

As they stood touching hands in the orchard that Spring day,
She knew that, in his going away,
It was possible that he might not return.
He could fall victim to overweening ambition -
the fame and the rewards thereof
could just as easily lead him astray.

The first month he was away,
he called her every Sunday,
Usually hungover and tired,
he told her of his experiences
and promised to return for the 4th of July.
And he always said,
"I'll love you til the day I die."

As the months passed, 
his calls dwindled, and
when July came,
he was on tour with his band and
did not visit her.
He did call to say,
"I'll love you til the day I die."

September came and he was still on the road.
He couldn't visit in October and
Missed seeing her on her birthday but
He did call to remind her of his promises and
to say, 
"I'll love you til the day I die."

Thanksgiving came and went but
he didn't show up.
At Christmas, he was on the other side of the country and
It was impossible to get home in time.
He blew off New Year's Eve.
He forgot to call and say,
"I'll love you til the day I die." but
surely he felt it? Surely?

There was no call on Valentine's Day.
No call for months after that.

In May, Henry Cavalry asked her if she'd consider
 stepping out with him.
Henry was an earnest, stable guy who owned a farm nearby. 
All vouched for his reliability and he was respected.
She said yes and they began to spend time together.
Happily.
He never claimed that he'd love her til the day he died.

They married on Christmas Day.

The following Valentine's Day, the musician called her
with the news of a tour bus  accident.
He'd broken an  arm and both legs and was returning
 to be nursed back to health.
He wanted her to marry him and make him a home.
She sighed and took a deep breath.

Then she told him of her marriage and the child that was on its way.
She apologized that she wouldn't be able to tend to him.
He wept for a minute and then whispered,
"That's ok. I'll love you til the day I die."
He ended the call.
He reached under his pillow with his one good arm,
pulled out a shiny black snub-nosed pistol and...

 a single shot rang out.



©Ellen Pepper 2025






Wednesday, 3 December 2025

Scene from a Deathbed

 




King Eindriði : "Astrid! Fetch my sword! I must again do battle against the innocents! I must lance the boil of peasant revolt. I must tear down the citadel of evil that surrounds us! It's is my duty to once again enter the fray!"

Astrid: "Papa, no. Lie back against your pillow. Drink this potion. Your wound is suppurating and the apothecary is fretting."

Eindriði: "I must rally my troops and march into victory once more. I have no time for the ministrations of the treasonous who would assail my realm. I am the commander and will obey the call to duty!
I needs must...I..." He falls back, clutching feebly at the air.

Astrid: "Oh, Papa, your delusion is strong. The fever has taken your mind out to play on former battlefields. The land is at peace - there are no more battles to be fought - you have conquered all your challengers. Rest now, and heal so that you can enjoy ..."

Eindriði: "Damn it all, girl! Do as you were bidden! The enemy is at the gates. They wear the masks of battle. They march in rhythm to the changing of the guard. They stink of rat semen and bear oil. They lust for our blood. 
I know them well, daughter, as I've fought them on the plain, in the swamp, on the mountain side and in their caves.
And now I must take up my sword and fight for all the vanity that I can store in the treasure vault. It is my duty."

Astrid: "Father, you ramble in delusion. The fever has taken hold of your mind. None of this is true. None of this is necessary. Your heart will explode if you don't take your rest! I must insist ..."

Eindriði: "Back away, heathen! I will not be forced by the likes of you. Bring me my ..."

As a coughing fit burbles foam from the king's mouth, Hans, the apothecary races into the chamber, bearing aloft a ruby red beverage in a clear goblet.

Hans: "Majesty, I beseech thee to quaff this potion. It will strengthen your blood and return you to health. The spell was in my grimoire and has been efficacious in the past."

Eindriði, pushing away the medication: "Why does no one heed me? Have I already passed beyond? Tomorrow we march on Valhalla! Fólkvangr will become part of my realm. This I vouch to all and sundry."

Astrid: "No, Papa, no! It's not yet your time to meet with Odin. You must get well. Otherwise, it is only I who can rule in your place. I am not worthy."

From the corner of the chamber, a voice whispers, "Let him die. His mind has collapsed and he lives now only in the past. Astrid glances over to the speaker, meets his eyes  and nods while placing her left hand on her bosom. In turn, he does the same. 

Eindriði: "I see that serpent in the west! Begone, Flæmingr - thou foul Spirit! I shall not be defeated by your vaunting ambition. I SHALL NOT PASS INTO THE BEYOND THIS NIGHT! There are battles to be won and the time is growing late. I must be off! Bring my horse and cape. I will rouse my men. We march at dawn."

Coughing up crimson foam, Eindriði tries to rise from his pallet. He tumbles to the floor, striking his head on a chair arm. Blood flows. 

His lifeless body is hoisted back onto the bed.

The apothecary touches the king's neck and pronounces him dead.

All present bow down before Astrid.
As one: "
The King is dead! All hail Queen Astrid! Let the feasting begin!"

Flæmingr bends the knee to the new queen. She raises him up and bestows a kiss upon his cheek. 

Astrid: "This knight shall be my rod and staff and will be duly rewarded in due time. Let us not feast until the king has been set on his funeral pyre."

The king's body gives off a final belch and fart and his face is covered by his manservant. 

All exit but those tasked with preparing the corpse for its final rites.



©Ellen Pepper 2025

image credit: darkageshistory com

Monday, 1 December 2025

Honey was her name

 


Honey was her name.
Pleasure was her game.
No one found her tame,
the woman who had no shame.

Saturday night found her
In her red bustier,
black fishnet stockings,
mini mini sparkly skirt,
red-soled stiletto shoes.
A strutting cliché for the ages.

She was a vamp,
a scamp
an overused tramp
but
no one could fault her heart.

She wanted to be a singer,
not with karaoke but
for real, for real.
Tried out for a band but...

Her talent was lacking.
Bitterly resenting her fate,
Honey married a stockbreaker.
Settled into suburban life.

Three kids and a tummy tuck later,
Honey left to find the starshine.
Hubby took the kids and
met and wed a rich lady 
from Boston.

Married life had given Honey a voice.
Contralto, as silky as a vat of olive oil.
She found her fame
on a blue-lit stage.

Now here she stands
mic in hand,
feather boa 'round her neck,
dripping in cubic zirconias.

She's buried the past,
but it will climb from its grave.
Her kids will find her,
worse for wear,
some day.

On her gravestone,
they'll inscribe:

"Honey was her name.
Pleasure was her game.
No one found her tame,
the woman who had no shame."




©Ellen Pepper 2025




Sunday, 30 November 2025

Temporis illusio est

 




"Does anybody really know what time it is?"

About time and the fact that it's illusory.


Time... an illusion
but we believe in it.
We believe.
Belief doesn't make it true.

Time is of the essence.
Time is a war.
Time is only temporary.
Time is the other shore.

Miles said "Time isn’t the main thing. It’s the only thing."
Syncopated rhythm. 

Tolstoy chimed in with: "The two most powerful warriors are patience and time."
Concatenation.

Darwin opined: "A man who dares to waste one hour of time has not discovered the value of life."
Time as luxury. 

It's not a peccadillo to ruminate on time.
It's how a life is measured,
in the fullness of time.
Time is praxical for music, there's that.

Time is a false measurement.
Animals do not measure time. 
They simply live their lives.

Time is only true if you believe in it.


©Ellen Pepper 2025

 
image: ar.inspiredpencil.com

Tuesday, 25 November 2025

DREAM WEAVER

 




I dreamt of you 
again
last night.

You were sitting cross-legged
under a transparent dome
at the edge of the ocean
'neath the fullness of the moon
gazing empty-eyed 
at the waves.

You appeared to be vacant in mind.
Not dejected.
Just not there.

You seemed to be a blank slate.
Unmotivated to act
or think
or even breathe deeply.

I wanted to ask you what had emptied you.
But you couldn't be reached.
I spoke, but you didn't hear.
No reply was given.

The waves swept in...
Pulled you 
out in the silvery, shiny bubble
 far from the shore.
I saw you fading away and knew
I'd never hear your voice
or smile into your eyes
ever again.

Peace be upon thee.



©Ellen Pepper 2025


Wednesday, 19 November 2025

FINALLY DEAD

 



The untrod stairs.
The unsent message.
The silence of the tomb where unkept promises are mourned.
Your undying mendacity.

Your malignant despisery.
Your smug face in the media scrum
never to be seen again
except in mocking, comedic videos.

You said you'd stick around
until the gold paint dried.
It was meant to be a jocular moment,
but it held true.
You had other things to do...
a house to break into shards.

So the last thing you destroyed
will be  forever the final.
 The end is not the beginning.
The door has been slammed,
and the disquiet is a haunting.

We thought you'd never leave.
You were brought down by your irascible rage.
Ostracized by those from whom you begged respect.
You vulgarian, barbarian troglodyte. Schweinehund.
You bought the fealty of demons and 
your spawn did the same.

So, farewell to you. No...
be gone, and good riddance.
May you dwell in the Ninth Circle of Hell
forever and a day.
Treacherous. With Judas as your lusty cellmate soulmate.


©Ellen Pepper 2025

image: https://artpictures.club/autumn-2023.html

Monday, 27 October 2025

A Mind is Fading

 


I spoke with an old lover today.
Topics of conversation were:
Portuguese custard tarts,
crime in the big city,
a stranger bought him lunch in Kensington Market.

He spent quite a bit of time enumerating
the horrendous gun and knife attacks recently.
He bemoaned the fact that young people are evil
and out of control.
He said he's afraid to go out after dark.

He wanted me to send a link to a guy
who wants to lose weight with whey.
A link that he'd already sent to me.
He said that link doesn't work for him.
He said he didn't know how to send a link.

However, he'd sent it to me. 
I said I'd send it directly to the guy.
He said not to do that because the guy works there.
I said the guy had sent me email from there.
He carefully reiterated that the guy works there.

I have a saddening feeling that his mind is
wandering away
now.
He's very old.

Then, when I said that I had to go,
he wanted to talk about Jesus.
I didn't want to talk about Jesus.
He said he'd pray for me.
I wonder whether I'll ever hear from him again.

©Ellen Pepper 2025

image credit: https://www.freepik.com/


Sunday, 12 October 2025

IMAGINE THAT

 



Imagine that he’s finally gone,
eradicated,
sent away,
locked up,
dead,
silenced.

Imagine that:
his fiats are rescinded,
his minions are defeated
put on trial,
locked up
but not with him.

Imagine all the ICE goons
being thrown on the mercy of their victims
and torn limb from limb
by them in retribution.

Imagine all the wealthy pedophiles
subject to the vengeance of those they
damaged and defiled.
Imagine them held naked in cages
while their victims determine their fate.

Now…

Imagine compassionate health care
brought in for all Americans
while medical debt is erased
and scientific research is once again respected.
Imagine cures for diseases being found;
and medication costs made truly affordable.

Imagine a government that respects the Law
and holds the Constitution as sacred.
Imagine lawmakers who are not on the take,
where bribery is punishable with prison.
Where insider trading is forbidden.
Where lobbying is made illegal.
Imagine an Ethics Committee with teeth.

Imagine honour and courage returning to the land
because people have learned to cherish it.
Imagine everyone finally happy to admit
that we are all humans
that we all bleed
that we all love and cry and hope and laugh
and want the best for the children
and all future generations.

Imagine that Love and Service to Others
become the true measure
of a country’s greatness.
Imagine that.


©Ellen Pepper 2025


image credit: animalia-life.club

Thursday, 9 October 2025

All That Noise

 


Why are they so noisy?
A cacophony of calumnied concatenations creating consternation.
They cannot answer questions without acute accusations
against those who dare question them.
They shout down and shut off.  
They loudly obfuscate, 
and mendacity is let loose in the chamber.

The noise is non-stop. 
They never sleep. 
So many of them work through the night 
to spread more lies and deceit.
Dissonance. Disturbance. Defiance.
Stochasticity.
They crank the volume up to 11.

A vociferous interference with the serenity
needed to process their lies.
The plan being to drown out the critical thoughts
of their opponents.
They see it as a War of Words -
even against their own flesh.
More's the pity.

There can be no peace until...
fill in the blanks.
Maybe an even more destructive pandemic
wiping out billions
can reset the disaster of this relentless
commotion, clangor, clamor.
This babel of dissonance.

Only then would there be silence and 
quietude.
Only then would there be peace at last.


©Ellen Pepper 2025

Friday, 26 September 2025

Was I a Ghost?

 




 I dreamed last night that I was at an all night going away party for my friend, Stuart, who was repatriating to Scotland, his home country. It was a wild gathering with lots of noise, music, laughter and stories. Nobody spoke to me - not even in passing. Stuart was the life of the party, spinning anecdotes and charming everyone.

In the morning, while showering, I noticed that there were big purple bruise-type markings all over my body again. I knew this meant that my end was finally near. The doctors warned me that this would happen. Nothing they could do about it. Leukemia. No longer treatable.

The party group decided to go to a café for brunch on the way to drop off Stuart at the airport in time for his flight. It was a large, cavernous place with fairy lights and potted shrubbery. They found a table that seated everyone but me. I went to find and bring back a seat for myself. As I was about to sit down, Stuart stood up to make a little speech. When he was done, I approached him for a hug. He kept his arms at his sides when I put mine around him and I realized how little he cared for me. I said, "Please don't leave." He quickly moved away. There was an awkward silence. 

After we ate, I went off to find the restroom. I was in there no more than 5 minutes. When I returned to the table, it was empty. The entire group had left without me. I had no vehicle of my own to get to the airport. I was wandering around the café to see if they were still in the building, but they were not. I went to the parking lot, but the van was gone. I realized that they must have raced to get away as soon as I left the table. 

While standing beside a dessert bar, my vision faded and went to black.

I came to hooked up to several machines, in a hospital bed. Medics said that my time was nigh. I wasn't bothered to die. 

Later that afternoon, I heard the news. Stuart was gone forever, as I expected. What wasn't expected was that so were the other party-goers who'd been at the café. It seems that the van was crushed when a bridge collapsed on top of them just as they were halfway through the underpass on their way to the airport. No survivors. Stuart missed his flight, for sure.

I died at 8:17pm that same night.  I didn't feel a thing.

 Now, this all happened in a dream. When I woke up this morning, it hit me that I didn't know any of the people in that dream, not Stuart, not any of them. Maybe I was just a ghost in their lives which is why nobody acknowledged me. Maybe I just visited someone else's timeline - someone who did know these people. 

 ©Ellen Pepper 2025

Monday, 8 September 2025

Raising The Banned

 
 
Well, despite the onset of the 3rd world war, things have been pretty boring around here since Morningstar was banned so the K's and F*ck the D*ck have come to visit with me. 
We were sitting around gnawing on some burnt meat and we decided to hold a seance to "raise the banned" - our dear friend, Morningstar. 
 
Since that convo, F*ck has rigged up an astral image projector. 
Knowing F*ck's predilection for interesting twists in his inventive process, we don't really know what to expect. 
One thing, though, can we actually succeed in raising the banned spirit of..."The Morningstar"!? 

*shivering with anticipation and a slight amount of dread as a minor chord is played* 

 So, here we are sitting before the image projector that F*ck has setup, with our bowls of popcorn at the ready, the K's swigging away on their tinnies of lager and F*ck frowning at his control panel. 
Suddenly, F*ck leans back and says, "Are you ready? I believe we have achieved transmission!" 
There's a sudden whoosh as a blue miasma appears on the screen, then everyone gasps as....... 

...Somewhere on a beach in the Maldives; 
 "Hey, you know dude, this is the life, sun, sea, and all the coconut, rum and fruit punch shakes you can shake a coconut at.  
I've just never had it so good, y'know this being banned is just so f*cking liberating."  

Sitting next to the exiled Dark Lord is a furry little kitten, lying on a sun lounger, wearing designer shades, and sucking up a triple brandy with lemon and crushed ice, thru a long blue bendy straw. He is a Himalayan Rex, named somewhat appropriately; Mr Cuddles. 

 "I'd better go easy on the drinkies today...my owner says I have an appointment at the veterinary surgeon's tomorrow! " 

 "Really?...anything serious?" 

The little kitten puts his drink down for a moment, and his little head hangs to the left while he thinks,  "No, I don't think so."  

 "Oh that's good, had me worried there for a moment."  

The little kitten thinks some more. 
 "Can I ask you a question?"  

 "Sure, what is it?"  

 "Whereabouts on your anatomy are your  bricks?"

The little kitten's companion, almost chokes on his drink;  "Er...why do you ask?"  

 "Well" , says the little kitten smiling sweetly,  "My owner keeps telling me I'm going to be bricked!" 
He pauses a second,  "Will it hurt?"  

"Only if he happens to catch his fingers between them." 

The 4 K's and I erupt with pleased and excited cheers and chatter and congratulate F*ck, who seems to have actually produced the desired effect. 
"Morningstar looks very calm, relaxed and rested," say I with glee. 

"It's too bad Mr Cuddles won't look so happy tomorrow when he wakes up to find his manly goods missing," frowns Kinky. 

"Why, what do you mean, Kinky?" 

"Don't you Canadians know what "bricking" means?" 

"Nope." 

The K's cringe as one with the horror of what Mr C. is about to endure. 

Kinky continues, "It means he loses the two things that many males feel make them manly....his bollocks!" 

A tear begins to slowly roll down everyone's face. 
Only one tear, though, because they aren't an overly emotional bunch until the alcohol takes effect. 

I ask, "Do you think that Morningstar will save him from this fate? A fate worse than death for a kitten who hasn't 'Tripped the Light Fantastic' yet?" 

The K's go into a huddle to discuss it, then Kinky says, "It depends on his mood. He is notoriously moody, you know." 
Everyone nods in agreement.

Back on the beach... 

A woman walks by the ever errant Dark Lord and his companion, she casts them a withering look. 

Mr Cuddles shrugs;  "What's eating her? Man, I'm glad I left my saucer of milk back in my room, otherwise she d have just curdled it...you know her or something?"  

 "Well no...not personally", grins his companion. "But I think basically her problem is two fold."  

Mr C slurps on his drink, and listens intently to the Dark One s wisdom; 
 "For one...no-one is  pleasing  her...if you know what I mean."   

Mr Cuddles thinks for a minute and then, looks blankly;  "Well...actually no, I don t know what you mean...remember here that I m a kitty, not a human, so...remarks like that are completely over my head!"  

 "Good point!" 

 "F*cking right!"  

"Okay then .and secondly, her name's 'Essence'!"  

 "Essence?...sounds like something I like to do when I mark out my territory."   

The Dark Lord blinks hard, for a moment. "No, it's the internet, people have funny names!"  

 "Human thing?"  

 "Yep,"  

 "Okay!"  

Mr Cuddles looks back to the Dark Lord;  "So...why's she here with us?"  

 "Well...strangely enough, or maybe coincidentally...she lost her membership at Criminal Refuge same time as me...she just disappeared overnight."   

Mr Cuddles thinks hard at the implication  
 "My owners used to have an annoying little puppy who would chase me round the garden all day long."  

 "Really?"  

 "Yes...strangely enough, he disappeared overnight too ." 

Our collective eyes draw away from the screen and meet with dread. 
"Say," says Kinky with concern and trepidation, "Did Mr Cuddles imply that perhaps he may have had something to do with that puppy's disappearance?" 

"I've heard tell of a kitten with a "problem" who was to be vacationing in the Maldives at this time," groans Kenky. 

"Oh dear, dear, dear," say I, swigging deftly from my tinny, "Luckily, Morningstar will merely find it amusing to be accompanied by a sociopathic cat. He can handle it, I'm sure." 

"The sooner that cat gets bricked, the better for the world as a whole," opines Kanky. 

We nod, and look back at the screen.

As if in a dream, the Dark Lord looks up, as something stirs his thoughts, almost like a shallow summer breeze playing across a sun drenched field of ripened corn  
 "Do you hear that?"  

Mr Cuddles pauses for a second, and sniffs the air, his eyes focused on a point somewhere to the left of infinity, but unobserved because of his shades  
 "Well yes...I do...it sounds like..."  

 "A voice?"  

 "Yes, definitely a voice...but it s not here...it's ", Mr C struggles to find the right words."  

 "From somewhere else?", offers the Dark Lord trying to be helpful. 

 "Well...the voices always come from somewhere else, don't they?",  shrugs Mr C finishing his drink. 

 "The...Voices?"  

 "Well yes...I always hear the voices...don't you?" 

The Dark Lord, drinks hard and long, before the straw falls from his lips, and the scales from his eyes   "Oh wonderful...just what I need...a  sociopathic cat..." he wonders for a moment.  "Hmm, wonder where that thought came from...I would usually have said psychotic ."  

And then he turns, to the ethereal camera, and grins, a knowing grin...

"He knows we can see him!" 
"He can hear us!" 
"Let's send him a message!" 
"What shall we say?" 
"Let's try not to make it something trivial! This has to be a meaningful message if it's going through all the ethers and stuff!" 

The excitement is palpable once we realise that F*ck may have actually invented a communication device. A functional communication device! We may be able to talk with Morningstar despite the fact that he's banned and in exile! Oh happy day, calloo callay! 
The K's, F*ck and I do the Conga Happy Dance with Feathers and Balloons and a side order of confetti. 
Then we have a snack while we decide on something profound to say.

As Kinky wipes his face, he looks at me with deep sincerity and says, "So, have you come up with anything we can send as a message?" 
"Why do I have to be the one to do it?" 
"Well, knowing us..." and he gathers in the other K's with his glance, "we might ask him something foolish and he doesn't suffer fools gladly, as you know." 
The K's nod solemnly and take a swig from their tinnies. 
"Give me an example, " I say glumly, not liking to take on the responsibility of devising such an important communique. 
"I'd ask him if he was wearing shoes," says Kenky. 
"I'd ask him if he likes the food there, "says Kanky. 
"I'd ask him..." 
I cut off Kinky to whine, "I see that it's up to me! Well, then....let me think." 

Time passes like the last half hour of a school day in June. 

"After much deliberation, I've decide that I'll ask him a very, very, very important question!" 
"Are you ready?" asks F*ck. 
"I'm ready, hook me up to the mic, F*ck!" 
"Erm, well...ok, but don't comment on it, ok? I had to make do." 
F*ck walks over to me and wraps a bent hanger around my neck with a metal funnel that fits under my mouth. 
"This?" 
"Yes, please just try it." 

I clear my throat, and say, "Morningstar, calling Morningstar. I have a question for you if you can hear me. The question is...." 

"Cut. Cut, "shouts F*ck, "I made a mistake. Hold on." 

He races over to me and removes the hanger/funnel thingy, and replaces it with a tiny microphone, then grins, "This is the mic. I don't know how I mixed it up with the power source!" 

I get settled and try again, "Morningstar, calling Morningstar. I have a question for you if you can hear me. The question is...." 

The K's lean forward expectantly. 

"Why are you in the Maldives?" 
The K's lean back and sigh. 
"That's it?" says Kinky. 
"It's a start," I shrug, "Now we wait for his reply!


The breeze comes in from the ocean, feeling like a cool sheet on a hot night in August 
Mr Cuddles cocks his head almost whimsically, and listens. 

Almost afraid to ask, the Prince of Darkness turns to the little kitten 
 "The...voices?"
 "Yes...but not one I've ever heard before, this one sounds almost musical...and like a human female and, there are other smaller voices around her ." 

The Dark Lord smiles. 

His feline companion continues  "Oh...first time this has ever happened!" 
 "What's up?" 
 "Well, apparently..."  
 "Yes?" 
 "Well...it s for you!" 
  "Me?" 
 "Most assuredly, someone by the name of Emil?!?!? "
 "Emil?...you sure about that?, I don't recall knowing an Emil!" 
 "Hold..let me make certain...oh yes, definitely for you, in fact she says, and I quote here you understand, so please don t take this personally...
 "Morningstar stop being a f*cking *sshole, and speak to me! Why are you in the Maldives?

Laughing out loud, the Dark Lord waves his hand, and an image appears before him, of one very familiar group of friends 
 "So Emil...sorry, ML, guys...how's it going?" 

 "Why are you in the Maldives?"" 

"Well three reasons really...firstly, isn't this place just Heavenly? Secondly, and, (said in his best Michael Caine voice)  Not a lot of people know this  but the islands here are not just known by one name, they each have many noms de plume and identities, and I don t know why...but for some reason, there was something about that which just seemed so appropriate..."  

Somewhere across the ether, a stifled groan is heard as MyLove holds her head in her hands  
 "What was the third reason, Morningstar?...I so dread to ask."  
 "Well MyLove, I just thought it'd be an ideal place to sit back, relax, soak up some rays...and ..."  
 "And what?...WHAT?"  

 "Well...watch the  End of the World!" 
 

Friday, 5 September 2025

Dreams of You

 


You are the best companion I ever could have hoped for. You've come to me in my dreams every night for the past three. You've come to me and we were as before. Before you died. Before you became a dream ghost haunting my nights.
In the Before Times. When you were golden and glowed.

The first night you came for a visit, we met at Spadina station to go to Gwartzman's for my art supplies and then we'd have lunch. We found out that Paul had died. Shuffled off this mortal coil. Never to be seen again in this particular life. I recalled meeting him in the 70s and you laughed heartily because you weren't even born until the late 80s and I felt so old but not really. 

We walked along Bloor St just as the setting sun illuminated it mile upon mile like water seeking its own level. Summer fragrance in the air. We were on our way to schnitzel at Hungarian House. That and roasted potatoes. And our typical smorgasbord of conversation: spirit, meditations, sociology, art, music, films, theatre gossip - so many things to discuss.

The other night, we visited the Egyptian Exhibit at the museum. We held hands as you wept over some artifacts in a glass cases. I said nothing because...well, what could be said? Too many feelings swamped you - I could see that.

Last night, we sat in my old apartment with the view of the gallery below on one side and the old firehouse visible from the rear window. We watched the crowds oozing their way down Queen St West heading out to catch some nightlife. We laughed at something stupid in a movie that we left playing while we chatted. Belly laughs because the scenario was so ridiculous. Helpless laughter. 

We spoke of our plans. Creative efforts for the future. We didn't know how little time we had left to make memories. We didn't know. 
We didn't know that our time together was limited. And that this right now was a dream. 


Our dreamtime is precious. I'm happy for it. I'm fully aware that your body is empty of you now. I know where you've gone and it's good for you.
Still, I'll miss you...until we meet again. 

You are the best companion I ever could have hoped for. 



©Ellen Pepper 2025

Friday, 22 August 2025

CENSORSHIP

 

 

 

 


 

THIS IS WHAT CENSORSHIP LOOKS LIKE. 

COMING TO AN INTERNET NEAR YOU.

ACT ACCORDINGLY.

RESIST 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Katakartanaq

  Ineffable beauty. Walking out on winter solstice morn, Splintered sunlight cast like glitter on the bosom of deep snow. Katakartanaq* unde...