Ballad of Jesse & Calloway

This is inspired by a story I started writing but never finished, sadly I lost much of what I had written and I don’t have the energy to try and write it all up again. It wouldn’t have been the same anyway. But I decided I’d at least give the characters a bit of a stage, as I kind of just love this imagined horse!

Dust swirled just above the ground
As a man named Calloway
Galloped through the dusty, arid town
And as he did, all was silent
Doors did creek and eyes surely peeked
And trails of blood spoke of violence
And anyone who saw Jesse’s devils eyes
Were sure to be forever modified
For there were no horses like him
All black with mane of white
Looking through his crystal blues
As he dashed on by
Spraying dust under his hooves
No one forgets that unicorn among horses

The Tiny Gynecologist

“Mrs Ashton,” a small male voice queried.
Mrs Ashton looked around looking rather weary, “who speaks?”
She asked nervously
“Dr Perez.” He answered
“Where are you asking from?” She asked with a frown
“I’m here, just look down.”
Mrs Ashton lowered her chin, did a double take
To see Dr Perez standing at her toe with a grin.
“You’re….” she stifled a scream, “you’re Dr Perez?”
“Yes, follow me.”
She considered turning round and walking straight out
But she followed anyway despite her doubt
“Okay, just lie down over there.” He pointed to a bed.
She lay down and placed her ankles on the stirrups
“I must admit, I’ve never been more nervous,” she tried a little laugh
But the little man had already gone under her gown
And with a little giggle he was acting the clown
“I love this job.” He beamed, “gigantic vaginas,” he guffawed
“Excuse me!” Mrs Ashton exclaimed.
“It’s okay, just a little humour, no need to be be ashamed!”
Holding her vagina open with a speculum
He shone his torch down and shouted, “hello,” and then repeated the word, “hello, hello, hello,” His voice getting quieter with each hello to resemble an echo. He laughed and slapped his thighs, “I’ve always wanted to do that!”
Mrs Ashton began to get a bit fidgety, “stop that! Take your job seriously!” She hissed.
“I’m sorry love,” The little man said, “if you don’t mind me saying,” he began, trying to get into her good books again, “you’ve a lovely vagina.”
Mrs Ashton wasn’t sure how to respond, “um…” she suddenly smiled “thanks!”
“All looking very good down here,” he reported, “hello?” He began again with a little snigger, “hello, is anyone in there?” He shone his torch down once more and to his surprise a voice called back, Dr Perez stepped back, “Jesus, I didn’t fucking expect that!”

Father & Son go camping.

With illusions to nowhere
everyone thinks they’re somewhere

Not here….


Arthur sat on his log with a frown upon his pale freckled face, “We need to get back to nature.” He pondered out loud after hearing such phrases from many adults.
“Is that so?” His father replied, brushed his hand over his beard, “Why where have we been?”
With that Arthur looked to his father with a puzzled expression and the fire crackled between them, reflecting on their faces. “Nowhere.”
His father too was now considering the phrase his son had just said, in deep thought he looked to the flames as if the answer would be in them. “Exactly.” He said, finally.
“What?” Arthur asked, still perplexed.
His father flicked his knife over the wood he had been whittling into a teddy bear for most of the afternoon, “It’s as you say, we’ve been nowhere, son.”
“Nope,” Arthur shook his head, “I still don’t get ya!”
“Well,” his father closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, “How can we go back to something we never even left?”
The boy considered this for a moment and rested his chin on both of his hands, “But,” He started, “You’ve said it yourself.”
His father frowned, “I was foolish.”
“How so, dad?”
His father once again stared into the flames, as if the flames were an oracle that could give him any answer he needed. “Well, I guess,” He frowned trying to find the words, “Well, look at it this way, have you seen a Beavers dam?”
“Yea.” Arthur sat hunched forwards, eager to his father.
“Do you remember them termite mounds?”
Arthur’s eyes lit up, “Yes! I remember them!”
“And you remember that documentary on the TV about the bower birds nest?”
“Yes! I remember all that, dad! I remember!”
“Well, that’s what humans are doing.”
Arthur’s face scowled into the flames, “I just don’t get ya!” He shook his head, “The termites made them mounds, the bower birds made them nests, and the Beavers made those Dams!”
“And we humans built our nests and all the other things we have created for better or worse.”
“But,” Arthur kicked “We have houses! Not nests!”
“Same thing.” His father remarked.
“But, like,” Arthur paused in thought, “TVs! They aren’t natural.”
“So if something is man made it’s, therefore, unnatural?” His father asked.
“So what are we humans then?”
Arthur frowned, “You just said what we are, we’re humans!” Arthur sighed and looked down at his shoelaces, “Anyway most of what people have made have been destructive.”
“It may well have been,” His father put down his knife and studied the teddy bear he’d whittled, “Doesn’t make it any less natural.”
“But nature is beautiful.” Arthur argued, “To be destructive is far from natural!”
“But destruction is part of nature.” His father reminded him.
“So what does this mean for us?” Arthur asked with a worried expression on his face.
“What do you think it means?”
“I think it means we can’t help ourselves.”
“We can,” He picked up his knife again and shaved a bit of the teddy bears ears that was sticking out too much, “we just need to stop perpetuating the illusions that having houses made from bricks and electronics in our home means we’re not part of nature, or beyond nature. Then, perhaps we’d be more conscious about our choices.” He studied the teddy bear again and smoothed his finger over the curves, “Do you think your little sister will like this?”
“Yea, dad,” Arthur replied but with a far away look that had glazed over his eyes.
“Whats up?”
“I’m just dreaming of saving the world.”
“Naturally.” His father uttered softly.

Less hope for you yet.

Calloway pushed the blade further into the ground with the step, leaning his body to use all his weight, “ya know,” he started, grunting, “what your problem is?” a cigarette bobbed up and down between his thin lips as he spoke
Max watched the blade cutting into the earth, “What?” He asks, arms folded.
“Ya still holding out for hope.”
Max cocked his head to one side, “Having hope is my problem?” He scoffed.
“Uh huh.” Calloway grunted and leant into the handle, “Let that hope go, boy.” He flicked ash onto the earth beneath his feet, embers flickered orange and then gave up.
Max disagreed, shaking his head. “A bit of hope is what a man needs.”
“Nah, Max.” Calloway let the shovel drop down to the ground with a thud, and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, “We all die in the end.”
“Morbid.” Max rolled his eyes.
A flicker like the embers from his cigarette sparked in Calloway’s eyes for a moment, “What do ya think I’m doin’ ‘ere? Digging for goddamn gold?”
Max looked at the hole Calloway had been digging and sighed with irony.
“The world needs the hopeless.” Calloway drawled on, taking a swig from his bottle of water.
“The world needs more hope, that’s what it needs.” Max said adamantly.
Calloway waved Max’s words away casually, “This world is just a big cosmic joke.”
“Well I for one,” Max dug the toe of his shoe into the ground with an irritated kick, “think there is something more to all this.”
“Something more? Something more than what?”
“Than this!” Max gestured with his hands open in front of him, signifying everything.
“You know why the world is a cosmic joke?” Calloway asked, picking up the shovel again and heaving the blade back into the earth.
“Because it’s all a big accident, blah blah. You’ve told me all this before.” Max faked a yawn.
“There is irony everywhere.” Calloway said matter of factly.
“What are you on about, Cal?”
“There is more hope to be found in the hopeless.”
Max scowled, “That makes no sense!”