Long Chase after Poems
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In a mall that could only be described as a circus of chaos, Penney and Gus found themselves in an absurd game of cat and mouse. The air buzzed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety—it was just another day at Mallville, where the ordinary became extraordinary, and every moment held the potential to be either hilarious or downright dangerous.
Penney eyed the bright signs that advertised "Escape Rooms: The Ultimate Adventure!" The fluorescent colors felt oddly welcoming amidst the pandemonium that was unfolding before her. She couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Who would've thought that the mall's Easter Bunny would become an unwitting ally in their escapade?
“I never thought I’d be saved by a giant rabbit,” she murmured to herself as they ducked behind a row of chic retail displays, barely avoiding Michael’s frantic gaze.
“Look! It’s a bunny!” Gus exclaimed, his eyes shining with an idea. “If we can trick Michael into thinking that bunny is the true prize to chase after—or maybe even a secret agent—we might just have our distraction.”
Penney nodded, catching a glimpse of the furry creature adjusting his oversized glasses and attempting to regain composure after the chaotic encounter with Michael. The bunny, apparently, was more than just a seasonal mascot; he looked sharp and surprisingly agile.
As Penney and Gus strategized, Michael was already on his feet, brushing away faux grass and chocolate-covered Easter eggs from his attire. His nose still dripped crimson, but his focus remained unwavering. “I will find you, Penney! You can't hide forever!” he yelled, the intensity in his voice suggesting he was ready to unleash chaos on anyone who got in his way.
Gus noticed a group of teenagers nearby giggling as they filmed the unfolding drama for social media, creating a modern archive of what could easily be titled “Mall Madness.” They seemed oblivious to the seriousness of the situation—distraction was their specialty after all.
“Hey, you!” Gus called out, pointing dramatically at the teenagers. “Zany TikTokers! How about a collab? We need an epic stunt for your next viral video!”
"I would get so high that I couldn’t breathe. My mind is so intent on making others
comfortable, on guessing where the comfort level is in others, that I, at times, tend to fry up.
This about one of those times. I was sitting by myself, as I am now, and was leaning over to
grab a strawberry, fresh Manoa strawberries, from the island, and ready for our mouths,
when it suddenly dawned on me that I could not remember my last content moment.
Preceding the strawberry was a week’s worth of carnage. An emotional tackle box getting
kicked down the street. And I wasn’t the tackle box. I wasn’t even the guy (or girl [lady for
that matter]) kicking the tackle box. I was the one watching. I was the one watching the guy
or girl or lady kicking the emotional tackle box down the street all week. And I wasn’t just
watching. I was shouting and moving, and kicking and I felt like the tackle box most of the
time.
In the store with my brother buying groceries swimming along aisles crunched together
brimming and bending with massive swelling food I get spun up and around again. Running
and dodging at the great modern bazaar. Here I am tangled in energy with the potential
torpedo-speed of diverting into any singular focus, cause, emotion, empathy, wonder, or
pity. So I walk with trembling fingers through the bardos.
Groceries are like an animal that eats you more than you eat it…”
The six eyes glared at each other. Finally one of the two heads underneath the giant upside-
down light bulb exclaimed: “Then what?”
“The transmission ends.”
She waves the document she was reading in the dead, extra-terrestrial air. She loses grip
with it as the ancient rag falls from her like a frightened dove feather if feathers could
be frightened. The other two space-suited light bulb heads chase after it. The Lady In
Command walks to the end of the lunar plateau and dreams, ‘What if I was a towel?’
Author Dana Redricks
December 24, 2023
In the depths of our souls, a worship hole resides, longing to offer praise to God, where our spirit abides.
Yet, we wander the world, seeking to fill the void, with people and possessions, the emptiness within, the yearning for more, unaware that true fulfillment lies on a different shore.
For we were made to praise, to give God glory and adore, to embark on unique paths, each with a story to explore.
Why, then, do we chase after things that bring no gain, treasuring ephemeral joys that only breed pain?
Instead, let us grasp what truly holds worth, a treasure everlasting, not bound by time’s grasp or things on earth.
Seek not the fleeting pleasures that fade and decay, but hold onto the things which are eternal, where true riches lay.
For worldly treasures may dazzle and enthrall, but they crumble and perish, leaving us in thrall.
Yet, a treasure that endures, never fading away, shall bring everlasting joy, come what may.
So, let the worship hole in your soul find its way, to the source of all goodness, where its thirst can allay.
Offer your praises to God, Yahweh above, and discover the fulfillment of boundless love.
In the depths of your being, let devotion ignite, for in praising the Divine, your spirit shall take flight.
Being strong takes effort, being weak is easy
to fall for certain wishes that excite senses,
and a growing boy has many temptations
not related to a sweet cinnamon apple pie!
Oh, sweet girl with the loveliest voice
live without worries, run past meadows
where lively thoughts speed up footsteps;
living without fantasy is a hard choice!
Boys your age don't really have any dream,
they play the sport that suits their taste;
they have seen people's faces that gleam
from a delusion or dream that went to waste!
Oh, sweet girl with the loveliest voice...
chase after sunsets to find that eternal joy;
we both have dreamed but very differently:
I'll write your story in beautiful prose!
Sit down, I'll unlock the magical key to success,
considering I've failed, toy would look down on me;
It's in failures that we learn to get better and disagree:
you can avoid those unnecessary risks, never play chess!
Oh, sweet girl with the loveliest voice,
don't imitate me, life has been a total struggle;
nobody held me in my loneliness, this bruise
never heals, neve busts into a bubble!
I waste no breath on silly matters, I tell it straight,
pay attention in every detail, wisdom you must use:
let no regret make you bitter, listen with attentive heart:
after you have lived and wasted all: what else did you lose?
There's a lot to know about snow
from zero to thirty below
and sometimes colder, although
I have to stay in when it's that cold
Snow starts as ice
no two flakes the same
but if it's too warm
it turns into rain
On reaching the ground
the flakes give a brief sigh
say hello to their comrades
and pile up high
When the snow is fresh
and I've just waxed my skis
I chase after the north wind
and sometimes, catch a sneeze
The tracks in the snow
tell us many a tale
of rabbits and mooses
wolves, foxes and whales
Our snow house is warm
despite winter's cold
when tired my quinzhee
is a joy to behold
There's a lot to know about snow
from zero to thirty below
and sometimes colder, although
I have to stay in when it's that cold
February 24 Heart for God Bible Meditations Based on Numbers 31-32
Key Verse – Numbers 31:16 Behold, these caused the children of Israel, through the counsel of Balaam, to commit trespass against the LORD in the matter of Peor, and there was a plague among the congregation of the LORD.
HEART THAT CONFESSES TRESPASS AGAINST THE LORD
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our dishonesty
Being wearied in our sins, making us empty
While sojourning in worldliness’ bounty…
He alone can pull us from futility toward spiritual maturity.
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our loneliness
Being weak in our envy-caused bitterness
While experiencing self-pity in barrenness…
He alone can grab us from worthlessness toward ministry-effectiveness.
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our frustrated
Being unsuccessful in our goal-direction
While lamenting along loss-grief’s position…
He alone can drive us from failure’s torture toward victorious restoration.
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our arrogance
Being self-sufficient in our abundance
While drowning into disobedience-endurance…
He alone can snatch us from earthly craving toward divine performance.
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our backsliding
Being guilty in our Christian standing
While oppressed by materialistic humanistic enfolding…
He alone can bring us from transgressions’ prison toward His holiness-abiding.
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our hypocrisy
Being afflicted in our prayer-deficiency
While pretending to be strong in carnal persistency…
He alone can carry us away from fleshly fervency toward His might’s mercy.
We confess our heart’s trespass against the Lord midst our sorrow
Being sad in our servanthood which is just a show
While trying hard to chase after vain success and its shadow…
He alone can transform us from shallow devotion toward commitment glow.
February 24, 2026
Cut to the chase after tan hat man!
Though reading horror stories
gearing up as strawberry spring fest
full throttle danse (macabre),
an only every now and again predilection
genre crazy wave
washing over me like
a killer tsunami,
harboring pier rill less night surf
(subsequently fueling figurative
hair razing close shave
critical desperation) to save
thine scrawny ****,
(a derriere laughing stock,
and hence cheeky of me to rave),
what you put
in a Margarita,
those rare occasions satiated, when
hung over insomnia heavily bulging,
rheumy myopic blood shot eyes
nonetheless lock into
vital opening sentence determining,
whether adroit kingly author
nimbly setting the stage and pave
ving what thenceforth, pro
misses tubby a cell out ace
in the hole captive audience
skeleton crew exhuming a grave
grim reaper they crave
(me, this apt pupil), doth brace
himself by all counts once
a bad little kid deserving, well...now...
just a bag of bones,
who fiendishly cackles
analogous to screeching
linkedin deafening banshee
when leaning in (Sheryl Sandberg like),
whereat after opening sentence,
an instantaneous big bang
possessive gnarly hand
forcibly grabs my attention
presaging and frightening
yours truly (juiced in case
ye did not know),
where within the bazaar
of bad dreams epic,
which seems like forever,
when I finally erase
and exorcise the bogeyman who,
regally, masterfully, immediately,
dramatically got woven
lady chattery teeth and all
withering wicked warp and woof
establishing (proof positive),
an excellently crafted
Chiral Mad heavily shades
of night are falling
gussying haunting place,
where the color of evil permeates
every cerebral space
with darkness, said
sub rosa prime evil punctuates
the mind of this dream catcher,
whence after four past midnight
the reaper's image appears
sending adrenaline rush,
surreal augmented moving pictures,
viz flight or fight
courtesy third eye blind
did, when firestarter alarm didst grind
passage of time manifesting dark forces
blaze zing atavistic fear itself lined
up battleground formation
from the borderlands of my mind
this even before turning
the first page where the eyes
of drag'n my afterlife
glowed with radiant shining
where suspense didst wind.
You said you are my friend,
But you stabbed me in the back
I sit here in my blood,
Wondering if you will ever come back.
As I suffer,
The days go by.
I'm wondering what is this.
Why do I feel so dry?
We once use to be happy,
But now it's all disappeared.
This feeling of pressure
Is slowly getting near.
My suffering increases
As the days go by,
And I'm sitting here wondering
Why you said goodbye?
How can you know me?
When I barely even knew myself.
How can you laugh with me?
When inside I am crying.
I told you once, how I felt.
Your ice-cold heart didn't even melt.
You didn't believe any word I said.
You'd be surprised when I end up dead.
Every coin has two sides,
just like you had two faces
How can you talk about me?
When you don't know the real me.
How can you see me?
When this image is a fake, a lie.
For you were like the rain,
you came and passed by
You never like anything I do.
Even though most of it is for you.
My "sometimes" best friend
Who is supposed to be with me until the end.
But you leave me all the time.
And never seem to see me behind.
Struggling to stop you,
I groan and moan as I chase after you,
Hurrying to please you.
You never see my feelings.
Only your own.
This makes me want to moan.
But this, you've already known.
You already knew that you walked away as I cried,
you turned your back on my tears.
To imagine you capable of such things,
A monstrous idea indeed.
I trusted you as you broke me.
I was there when you needed me,
But when I needed you, where were you?
Pretending to be someone you aren't,
To impress your "friends."
For you are as dark,
Dark as the magical, mysterious midnight
For which Lightning dances across the night sky
I guess you will never know all I did,
All I've done, simply for you.
You forget I know the real you.
I know the person that hides beneath.
I know things about you that others don't.
Don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me.
I won't betray your trust. As you did to me.
You were my friend.
Alas, that mistake no longer lives.
Only the pain in my heart shows its existence.
I wish I knew what happened,
For you to do as you did.
But I guess that's one secret,
I'll never be privileged to know.
Who's getting lonely being forsaken,
less loved by someone who has
failed to show tenderness?
Is joy missed in the midst of loneliness,
are words completely frozen
and not being sincerely spoken?
Only a few faint dreams will last after sunrise,
and we chase after them with the saddest eyes;
they will be dreamt by others more deserving than us,
being careful not to shatter them with vengeful feelings.
Who's truthful enough to resist temptations again,
and stay safe in the arms of a faithful one?
Is betrayal a way to break a commitment
and replace it with a doubtful sentiment?
Only a few faint dreams will last after sunrise,
are you the lucky one not to see them fading
into the sunlight that blinds the unbeliever's eyes
not so certain that they will be reappearing?
Isn't sleeping alone and breathing alone
so awful and miss the warm heart of someone who was close?
Making vain wishes is losing that igniting spark,
shut your window and ignore the moonlight's glow...
your lover is lying in a stranger's arms not afraid of the dark;
are you that one seeking warmth to let desire grow?
As the dark veil covered the sky,
I was left with no choice but to resign to fate.
The enemy was relentless in their pursuit—
My platoon scattered after the strike on Khartoum.
Only two bullets remain~
One to kill another,
The other for myself.
I was lucky to find an abandoned trench—
wide enough to let my eyes rest.
Too fatigued to resist sleep,
I hit the hay and slept like a log.
Then I heard voices nearby.
From that hole I laid in, I could see them clearly—
They were South Sudanese soldiers~
the enemy soldiers.
They chattered loudly, so I knew they shared
a fate not so different from mine...
Only that we were enemies—
oil and water don’t mix.
Thank God for the darkness and the trench,
I was hidden from their view.
At least four hours of night
would still conceal my identity—
or so I thought.
Then, about ten minutes later,
I saw a large black snake,
its scales gleaming even in that darkness,
crawling toward my hole—
from the opposite side of the enemy soldiers.
From the way it moved, I knew—
that hole was its home.
It was returning for a late-night nap.
I had no choice but to leap from the trench
and run toward the enemy soldiers.
I could feel the heavy clouds hanging over them
as they scattered in opposite directions.
I ran between their fear,
the sound of scales closing in behind me—
the snake sniffing at my heels.
I ran.
My lungs were like chains
tightening with each breath—
but still I ran,
my heels kicking the back of my head.
And I remembered:
I still had two bullets remaining—
One to kill another,
The other for myself.
My helmet burned like a furnace.
I jolted awake—still in the trench.
No snake.
No soldiers.
Just shadows.
The nightmare had ended,
but my chest still heaved
from that breathless, imaginary run.
I felt the gun still on my chest,
reached for the bullets—
they were still there.
And I remembered:
One is to kill another,
The other for myself.