http://slow.writerscafe.org/alkhay The original writings of author Laz K. en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776083400 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The body wasfound by the maid. She arrived with the week’s shopping ready to do adeep-clean. The house stood an acres of forested land and was a monument tominimalism. Its angular, white body perched on steel legs. From a distance itresembled a spacecraft that landed for a quick visit .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3128780/ Elephants, strongmen, and clowns http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3128175/ Slumbering soulsFloat down the highwayDreaming soap-bubble thoughts, Living cul-de-sac lives inOily skins, wrapped tight Around balls of emptiness,Blown into existence byThe wrinkled lips ofA wide-eyed child.Glistening in the sun, Like animated impressions of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3127978/ Reflecting on the simple pleasures of a holiday, and the freedom I had to be me for a while . http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3127683/ Expelled from Eden,Cursed, turned away.It’snobody’s fault;You were meant to disobey.That’show the story goesSince the dawn of time:You’re not only the victim,You are the crime.Sad,sad son of Cain,You’re right about trauma,You’re rig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3124912/ My faith is a jewel hidden in a cave;A crystal that grows in the dark.Over millennia, it lay slumbering In silence, then gently roused by theSoft, muffled music of the spheres, Cradled, loved, nursed by the Earth,It grew, like a pearl in a shell, lustrous,Bright, though.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3124484/ Roses are red,Violets areblue, Little Judyis nice…Don’t cry,Mommy,I still loveyou, too.  Bicycle, mybicycle,My everything!You never tireof me,And, oh, thejoy you bring!We go fast, wego faster,You’re myfriend, but.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3121583/ I ampoverty;I amhunger.Ishuffle in the streets;Imumble.Here today;Gonetomorrow,Thegrief remains,So doesthe sorrow.Youreyes look away, butTeachyour heart to see, forWhat Iam… You,one day, may be. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3120777/ A moderate bookshelfStood in a modest houseWhere soft, whispered wordsOnly ever made a humming sound. Gray clothes and, in the driveway, A gray car equally unloud wereThe telltale signs of Modern ManOutwardly meek, inwardly proud. Uncertain about what’s wr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3119863/ Is this the same house?Outside the window,The same trees?I walk the path with the same feet,But no, it’s not quite the same beat.The gallop of youth mellowsInto a new tempo,The pitch drops,The melody descends, and Passionate, towering themesFall like dry.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/3119331/ At times my shout is like the search pole and the shadow grass. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2963107/ With her graceful head thrownback, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, the face of the reclining mother catwas a living icon of ecstasy. There were four other felines at her n*****s: twokittens and - an unusual sight - two adults. Larry, though puzzled and somewhat sickened by theblatantl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2962613/ Grant me, Lord,A quiet corner to call my own,Away from the noise, From the clamoring crowds That always want and Want some more. Some land, trees, and rocky soil:Enough to break your back and Still keep you poor. I'll work in your garden, Pla.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2957828/ "…but when I became a man,I put away childish things." (1 Corinthians 13:11) Trinketsand toys, Unconcernedchildish joys,Deep,undisturbed sleep,Mother’slove -- unfailing, deep, Hope, rootedin ignorance, A mustfor the weak: trust In Lif.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2956906/ Desert dunes shift in a Slow dance with time.On the ancient face of the land,Caravans carve faint, fragile lines.Here, silence guards her secrets,Here, all is asleep, dreaming.The fools flit about,Building castles on sand,While death glides on easy wingsAbove the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2956319/ Liftthe stone from the shoot, Itgrows; pull up the weeds, andItneeds no further instruction,Theflower knows which way to go. Yet,we carry sacks of stones,Anddare not grab and tear at the Evilthat creeps and climbs on Ourlibs like the serpent in Eden,Bu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2955664/ Holloway thought of Josh, the protagonist of the TVseries Echoes of the Heart, crying about his sick puppy in Episode 5 ofSeason 2. Josh was comforted by a small but dedicated group of friends in abar. The bartender inquired about the cause of his troubles, and offered him adrink, strictly &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2952802/ “Shallwe?” she said, and We were on the dancefloor. I can’t recall when She waltzed into my life, butHere we are; no use Dancing around it anymore. The band is kicking off a twist.Her favorite. The twist.Memories crowd the roomLike stomping Cos.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2949926/ To stand like a tree: purposeful, Resolute, on a green hill or roadside, In freezing cold, scorching sun, or Sudden rain. To see the world set ablaze, faceThe grinning of razor blade teeth, And not budge, but where I standHold my ground and plant my feet. &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2949112/ Time was a transparent river To the all-seeing eye in the sky.Past, present, and future flowedFreely from source to mouth, butO, the crystal ball fell and Shattered into a myriad shards.Now, we have but useless, fractured Prisms, squinting at the gaping schismsBetween.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2948701/ Like grown-up children that dutifully visittheir old parents, carrying sad gifts of obligationwrapped in crumpled sheets of guilt,they come to see me when the sun is highand their busy world seems empty of purpose,and the old roads and goals are but a miragein the vibrating heat.Do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2948352/ A large crowd followed Him everywhere. Thenoise, the dust, and the commotion repulsed Kadesh, but he couldn’t stay away. Hehung onto the edges of the crowd like a bur sticking to soft cloth. With squintedeyes, he sat on a hill overlooking the scorched, yellow valley, chewing on somedri.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2948082/ A little less sunshine, a little more dust,Square-shouldered boulders stay where They must. Hammered and hewed, chiseled,And with thick ropes bound, they are made To obey the proud, golden crown.The head and the feet - far removed, Like earth and sky - one clumsy, heavy, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2947295/  I"Goodmorning, folks! It’s 7:25 on this lovely Tuesday, and here’s your latestweather update. We’re starting off with mostly clear skies across the region,but a surprise system is moving in faster than expected, bringing with it somesudden and scattered downpours .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2945249/ A gulp of bitterness as I wake -Black, no sugar, no cream.The old mug, cracked an stained,Breathes tired puffs of steam.Feet shuffle, eyes dare not stare -Merciless mirror, cold floor, Thoughtless breaths of air. Scoops of asphalt, gasoline in a bowl -Breakfast cereal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2944614/ Howmany more grains Fromthe hourglass of my lifeBeforethe sieve of your Greedyhands is full?Howmany more jolts andConvulsionsof this tired Beatingdrum of my affectionBeforethe discordant Overtureof your would-beBirdsongtakes wing?Howmany more nights shall I be The flickeringc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2944607/ The hand that held the reed Wasno stranger to the sword.Noble sons of Greece, Sophocles, orHisbrother in arms, Euripides,Knewand claimed that war wasThefather of all things,and Their words, an eagle’swings, Slice the air above us still.Bodiesm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2944362/ It had to be.He was nailed to a tree. Know this when You’re seized and bound, Spat upon, mocked, Scourged and crowned.Humbly worn, you shall be The rose to the thorns, andWhen the laughter dies, andThey all turn back to Their tellurian lives,None sha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2942925/ Dressed in black, words,Like pilgrims, traverse a Well-defined universe of Right angles and fine fibers.Corner to corner, they roamIn search of their virgin bride Dressed in pure white light.Like water from a stone,Thoughts flow and flood Desert minds; something .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2940611/ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not comprehend it. (John 1:5) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2939256/ Tighterthan the flat coils of Safetybelts on our chest,Afeeling of unease grabsOurthroats.  Eyesfixed on the road, Wewatch the occasional cyclistAsif the smooth helmet, orThecurved handlebar were Never-before-seenmarvels.  "Jump.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2938448/ I twist andweave fibers Made of myown sinews,I zigzagstitches that goAround, andthen, unseen, On the wrongside continue. Light doesnot penetrate this Thick robe,and Truth, being Patient and wise, doesnot probe. No, Shewaits and watches as I stitch, unstitch,bend, and With mournfu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2937220/ It started out as a celebration of spring. It turned into...but, you be the judge. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2936826/ Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2934869/ If God is love, doesHe love me as I doEphemeral flowers, orSeasonal blooms?I am but a short-lived Splash of color, anOddity, a single noteIn a great symphony.Man is the only creature That knows it ends, andUnder the weight of this Notion he twists and bend.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2934588/ Though we cough and Burn, with squinted eyesWe walk through fire,Press on, press on, And never tire.We pitched our tent andSet up camp on a Mountain of hopelessness, but They tell us to stay strong,And they can’t be wrong.Our hearts are fierce and F.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2934440/ “The tears of the world are a constant quantity.” ― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2934022/ Sowell-taught, so full of learning, yetWithjudgment blurred and clouded, Howcan a man be told and shown theRightpath and still resist and doubt it?Knowyou how to tell the colors of aSunriseto a blind man, or the sound ofA forestto one that’s deaf? For ages, at The feetof sages .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2933857/ Had webut lives longer thanthe blink of an eye,would we spy the wheel we’re tied to,andfrom the clod,would we look to the sky?Longago, it was pronounced:no matter where you look,where you run,there is no new thingunderthe same old sun.Theking is dead, long.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2932609/ Old man on a park bench,Hungry pigeons at his feet.Gnarled fingers fumble and Find a small bag of roasted, Pocket-warm seeds. How fastThe tasty snack goes! Why, He barely began, and of the Bite-sized pleasures, there’s Almost no more!Silent communion of b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2931803/ Your dress,so varied, regal, and rich,Once thewonder of the known world, A testamentto grace, grandeur, and Nobility, isin shameful tatters, soiled, Torn. Deceivedand fooled, it is how itBegan, bountyfor a god, taken, seized. What beastis it you ride now, daught.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2931671/ When insultsfly likeArrows, knowthat theyAre made ofignorance, andTruth shallbe thy shield. When the longchain of Mockery is beingforged,Know that itis made of fear, and Silence shallbe thy strength.  When conceitturns its haughty.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2931564/ Before I hadwords,I knew notwhat I was.Time was notyet born;Warmth andlight, whoseSource wasneither far,Nor close, dancedaround me, With me,for me, though “Me” was notyet a dropSeparate fromthe sea. I was as thebabe thatKnows no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2930615/ One lasttime, I passAmong theshelves With a lightedtorch in hand,Observing a longlife’s work.Brimming withtime and memories,The darkwood of the shelves Stands mute beforethe mystery ofWhat’s tocome. Philosophies ofDead men, catalogued.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2930307/ The Chinese New Year is popularly known as the Spring Festival in China - and other east Asian countries where this holiday is celebrated - as it marks the beginning of spring. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2929734/ Board a carriageinvisible With areturn ticket to aSentimental littletown calledNostalgia,where the streets areNarrow,cobbled, and quiet, Save for hard-heeledboots thatClick-clack,and walking sticks that Tip-tap therhythm of “The Blue Danube.” .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2929513/ As the Earth spins around its axis,Tumbling through space,Staring at the sun for millennia,Hypnotized by the rhythm of Lights on and lights off, I too,Zip and hurry through life Whirling, twirling and tumbling In a world made of mirrors.Leaning, vintage, and vanity,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2928263/ Should you ever wonder why she Marches in the street and shouts, Fist in the air, beating her brow,Know that she was born to aMother whose mother wasTaken and carried away like A sack of potatoes, game meat,A tightly bound bouquet of Wildflowers or fragrant herbs .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2928163/ Over andover again The sameplace,The samegame,The samesearch for The sameproof forThe sameclaim.Déjà vu witha twist:I’m you, andyou’re me,We’re still entangledin The same web,tied toThe same ballwith Th.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2927536/ I“Why do you think of your loss, instead of thinking of his gain? Can you be sorrowful when he is so joyful and happy? If you truly loved him, would you not rejoice in his joy and be happy in his happiness?” The priest read the text hurriedly. Familiarity breeds contempt. Can’t be .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/alkhay/2927142/