Pemberton Senses A Change

Hello with much enthusiasm and a dash of jubilation albeit with a pinch of trepidation. That is to say, I report with mixed feelings regarding a distinct change in the weather.
Upon awakening earlier, just minutes ago really, to the smell of hummingbird and a hint of topsoil overturned, I ventured to the south window and observed the following: a hummingbird and overturned topsoil. Gads! It appears that I successfully napped through the entirety of a season.
I recall a brief episode around the end of December last involving a roast beef. It seems the thing had dispersed a smell that could awaken a badger from the dead. A glorious display of aromatic bliss that immediately put me on my feet with much determination and unbridled appetite! I was famished and immediately primed for the task ahead, no matter how arduous. Sad to say, it ended badly.
 I had little trouble upending the beast off the table - all it took was a well placed paw and the thing was mine!  At nose level is was utterly intoxicating; I swooned and lost my senses altogether. I dimly remember dragging the roast down the main hall before a rude confiscation occurred. It seems the help had other ideas for the meal... Oh well, I restrained myself and allowed them to carry on. I have a deep regard for the keepers of my house, so under the circumstances decided not to make an issue of it. I slept well that evening with the memory on my tongue, so all was not in vain.
Anyway, I appear to have swerved off track. It is the coming of Spring that has me at odds.  I will adjust in due course, but it does take an effort. One is rather thrown off by an abrupt and unannounced change such as this, and some contemplation will be required to make the transition. I am unprepared to simply step out into a foreign clime, teeming with little flying things and untrimmed grass. The smells this time of year are a gaggle of anarchy... Yes, better to let it settle down a bit rather than rush out prematurely. I have given it a chance through the window and found it not yet ideal, in fact I took one sniff through the open sash and inhaled a galaxy of ephemeral mayflys. They won't last the night, but I will still be here tomorrow afternoon when I will once again survey the progress of the season, this time with my nose to the glass. Goodnight and dream of beef!

Black Speaks Out

Don't pretend you don't see me. I get this all the time, people think just because there's nothing reflecting back, it isn't there. Well here's a bit of news for you all:
I ABSORB EVERYTHNG!
You all are obsessed with BLUE and YELLOW and ORANGE, like they can cure all your ills and brighten up your day.  But what you don't realize is that they are just lying to you. That's right. They  just throw back what you want to see like a cheap hue. They don't possess any depth, it's just a surface trick to lure you in.  Can't you see? I'm the real thing! I have DEPTH and I will tell you the TRUTH!! When you are lost on a moonless night, trying to find  the way, I'm there for you. But do you see? NO! You act like a hopeless ass and stumble around falling into the ground.  What do I have to do to get your attention?
 When you got locked in that closet when you were five and screamed and pounded on the door, I was there for you. When you woke up from that hideous nightmare with a fever I was there... but you just stared at me like I was nothing.  Soon the light came on and I disappeared.
But I'd rather be invisible than a sellout rainbow - what a ruse they are, nothing but a bunch of show off primaries prancing about with droplets.
 At least white has some self-respect. As far apart as we are, I take my black hat off to white. That's a class act. Nothing gets past white. It must be easy, not absorbing and being so bright and all.
Still, I wouldn't give up my mystique for anything. I have an aura that even a candle has trouble holding up to. Cats and witches and clergy would be just pets and cranks and silly men in cloaks of a different color without me.
The world would miss me if I were gone. But I know one thing for sure. There's more of me out there than anything else and one day all your lights will go out. I'm talkin' 'bout the BIG LIGHT! That's right, the damn SUN will eventually be done and then I'll get my day in the... uh, well I'll just be all there is I guess. Wow.
Anyway, sorry for ranting. I just get overwhelmed sometimes.  Whatever happens, don't be afraid of me.

Just Iffy

The room is a crowd
When I speak out loud
Just unruly
Spoken unduly proud

When I say it I justify

Then onto nullify 

Just nonsense

In past tense

I'll hide in the light
With all eyes on me
Never a clue as to who
I might be right

The point goes astray
But I aim anyway
The target in deference
Moves away

One day a riot
The next a lull
Eventually quiet
Hopefully done

Night Switch

I'd like to attach one of these to my head. Anyone else think this whole dream thing is like an unwanted  home invasion?  Isn't waking life enough to deal with already...?  Every once in a while there is a respite from the relentless and all-too-vivid re-imaginings that pummel the helpless-at-rest, an odd bit of frolic and bliss,  but it's about as rare as a cake at the dentist's.  Per usual, some horrible mash-up of past memory pain shows up uninvited; a combined humiliation of reality and worse-case-scenario that lingers into the morning, or even past lunch and into the next evening. I have to knock it back with strong coffee followed by determined thoughts of present consciousness and sometimes even pizza and beer for lunch.
I remember a time when this wasn't the case.  At some point between puberty and my late teens, I recall slumber rich with wonder and lolling, stretching into the late morning on weekends like warm baked bread in my bed.  It was what I imagined an opiate bliss might feel like, and sometimes, if the planets are aligned and hell is averted, I still get that happy floating nothingness for a moment or two, but it is a fleeting thing.
What happened between then and now? Have I amassed such a database of awkward personal moments, unwanted tragic news stories, scenes of torture and heartbreak, accrued knowledge of the cruel nature of things, that it just overflows as I lay cuddled up under comfy covers, like a backed up toxic drainpipe into a clear mountain stream? Is my imagination overactive, underused while awake, acting out like a child prodigy denied a piano on which to pound?  I fear it's all of those things combined with bad luck and an uncooperative pillow.  I'm pretty lucky during the day, so perhaps this is just the balance of nature keeping it real. I will just suck it up and hope for happiness. Goodnight and sweet fucking dreams!