the goblin's posts

readying for his return to Geneva, the goblin had said goodbye to his failing mother again, again thinking that the older one gets the more that word "goodbye" has weight to it, the room in the old house was quiet and barely unchanged since last time too, it's silence reflected the absence of it's owner and although the goblin could easily play some music or watch television here, somehow it didn't seem right nor sincere to this moment

it's this time of year and the goblin has been thinking about Christmas again and how in this modern age it just didn't politically correct anymore, where non-Christians think it is too Christian, and where Christians thought it is too pagan now, no what the goblin wanted to offer here something else, something new in fact, "...well folks, it's time for the all new "politically correct" name-change then..." ventured the goblin "...so what we need is something historical to celebrate in its place that is both secular and well known..." the goblin continued "...well how about celebrating the discovery on the new world by Christopher Columbus in 1492...", in fact, the goblin had only suggested this, imagining that there were probably some people in America who were aware of it, "...simple, we take the his name and shorten it, "Chis" of Christopher and "bus" of Columbus...", and with that the felt he had done his good deed of the day and now only wanted to be the first to say on this thread "...Merry Chrisbus everybody..."

another ghost, the goblin remembered the true story in newspaper about a super powerful motorcycle that had killed two of three brothers in turn, of course the point of the story was what would the third brother do, "ride it" or "sell it", but for the goblin, at that time without anyone who depended on him, it was the wonderful image, of staking ones life in the race with death, which haunted him "...besides, death, could say "call" at any time so what does one stake here..." asked the goblin aloud as if knowing somehow that death would simply reply "...up to you, how fast do you want to go..."


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

The goblin was here too, alone save for that cold feeling of deep passing night as he eyed the Christmas tree for its reassurance though it only seemed to open doors back to earlier trees of his wilder times “…you’re all gone, why do you want me to remind myself of all this now, besides they're, and you well know it too, either dead, grown up or very old now, …” he voiced to the bright tree surrounded by darkness, the tree laughed back"...stupid goblin is it only now that you learn that you can't give Christmas back to those who loved you, you can only pass it on for them..."


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life's angels were not there to be nice but to help one find oneself, and the goblin had fought them often enough, but still this snow like slot, at the bottom of the thread here, was his "journey to self" the goblin felt, not theirs then, so his steps compacted the snow once more, and then more snow would just cover his footsteps again, but that's life he knew, though as long as he trod onwards, on this thread that is, he was still winning the "unwinable", in writing what else mattered then, what else could matter now

repost from elsewhere

the goblin still refusing to admit to himself that looking back his love had been based on faults, but that was it was, she had to be vain, capricious, stubborn, unreliable, unbearable, unreasonable and passionate for the goblin to fall headlong in love with her, anything less was never really feminine enough for him to succumb to her charms


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin remembered coming across the very toy in the flea-market that he had always wanted in his childhood, and in that way at least the flea-market to him seemed very like a sea that washed things up from his past, the goblin picked up the toy, took a long look at it and then finally put it back as if to let it drift away till next time, "...I suppose my growing old is like that then..." he ventured


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repost from elsewhere

somehow the goblin had changed, saying "...before I started this Muse's pact, I might have been someone who had wanted happiness, but now, I know that if I had been content, I wouldn't have even seen, nor felt, nor understood half of what goes on around me...", outside, in that hum of this late city's night that contrasted, or complimented, the methodical ticking clock on those white walls around him, and with that countless majority beyond that, who still wanted "to be happy" here, and yet, the goblin's feeling at this point was one of awareness and depth, "...happiness is just one color on the palate of life, I need all the colors to create, I want to mix those colors together, the sadness and the tears on the one hand, with the joy and laughter on the other to create something beautiful, but above all, I don't want know the outcome, oh no, this author mustn't know how life's story ends, even if that ending is the same for us all that is..." said the goblin feeling the need of this "last post" thread once more, the clock ticked away his moments but every moment here was worth it to him he felt now


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the goblin thanked everyone for reading or posting on here, though his mood was too pensive offer much in return, it was as if the goblin was once more back in the court of the moneygod being asked "...so goblin if you had one wish what would it be, name your price, I mean, you have a price don't you, most people here do have at least something they want then..." smiled the knowing moneygod as he stretched out his open arms in a big wave around him across those endless lines of items on offer "...anything then goblin, you name your price and then I'll name mine, it's that simple...", the goblin thought about it but then said "...no, I just want to be creative...", "...ah another bloody fool who thinks happiness can't be bought, simply you want to be "happy" then I take it, a happy little goblin in a happy life..." laughed the mocking moneygod sitting back in his chair now looking at the goblin, the goblin had to laugh at himself too "...I must be mad then, I don't really want happiness either, I mean if you asked me to swap my past tears and my pain, all my sadness, anger, passion, the loves broken or otherwise, these long goodbyes of people and places going or gone, I wouldn't swap them and I never will either, I am simply not cheap to their memory as those memories are all I have of me too, that's all..." which was the point the casher told the goblin to put the groceries back into the cart because the people behind him in the queue were waiting, "...sorry I was somewhere else..." apologized the goblin as the supermarket reality mercilessly entrapped him once more in his "dailylife"


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cycling in the wind, the cold cuts into the goblin's face, as he rides towards to bus terminal and, as always at this point, his grandmothers words spring to mind "...if you cycle into the wind you will be colder than walking whereas if you cycle with the wind you will be warmer..." to the 10 year old goblin at the time, it was true wisdom, but today it is a friendly ghost that pops up each time he cycles in cold windy weather, making the goblin wonder, by what ghost his own children would remember him by


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin reminded himself again, that all we ever have is "now", that little window of time between the dealt hand and the unplayed cards, and that perhaps, "to live" was to turn over each card one by one, while "to post" was to win a trick then, "...who knows, with enough tricks, one might actually go on to win the game itself, with ones final card, now that would be something..." hoped the goblin ever aiming at it

repost from elsewhere

which was the moment the spacecraft landed, and a little green alien said "...take me to your leader...", the goblin replied "...well, I don't know if he's actually the one you want, he's rather busy too, but a word of advise, don't mention the housing crisis, health insurance, the price of petrol, global warming, the troops in Iraq, the deficit, gunlaws, unlawful detentions, torture and the exchange rate, second thoughts would you like Larry King or Jerry Springer instead..." to which the alien scratched his head, got back on his spaceship and whizzed away not quite sure what to make of the humans then, nor of the goblin for that matter


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