Martin Freznell's Blog
May 11, 2022
New poems Veir
When I close my eyes
you are there.
All smile and bliss
the eyes of an angel
But also fear
why
would you pick me
out of the litter.
I think the choice
is simple though
and
I'll be here
When you are ready.
--------------------------
Sometimes I ponder
yey
sometimes I do prod and wonder
yea
Sometimes I tinker
yea
if only I took you
a little harder
made you come
a little darker
tore your dress
pulled your hair
Made you smile
lost that weight
yea
sometimes I wonder
would you have
stopped
pretending.
---------------
Friend
A ruined city
with the petrified remains
of exhausted memories
#naked as the wind
A tether of hope
my favorite
bitter indulgence
We were great once.
We really were.
Now gnawed into
a splintered chicken bone.
and when my finger
is accusing an empty mirror
I wonder
yey
I do ponder
yea
sometimes I do fret and linger
who's more
desperate for a
lie
---------------
A craven sausage
holding
a mind
beyond
putrefaction.
Every maggoty toke
a desperate plea for
you.
----------------------
you are there.
All smile and bliss
the eyes of an angel
But also fear
why
would you pick me
out of the litter.
I think the choice
is simple though
and
I'll be here
When you are ready.
--------------------------
Sometimes I ponder
yey
sometimes I do prod and wonder
yea
Sometimes I tinker
yea
if only I took you
a little harder
made you come
a little darker
tore your dress
pulled your hair
Made you smile
lost that weight
yea
sometimes I wonder
would you have
stopped
pretending.
---------------
Friend
A ruined city
with the petrified remains
of exhausted memories
#naked as the wind
A tether of hope
my favorite
bitter indulgence
We were great once.
We really were.
Now gnawed into
a splintered chicken bone.
and when my finger
is accusing an empty mirror
I wonder
yey
I do ponder
yea
sometimes I do fret and linger
who's more
desperate for a
lie
---------------
A craven sausage
holding
a mind
beyond
putrefaction.
Every maggoty toke
a desperate plea for
you.
----------------------
May 7, 2021
New poems Drei
I could smother this
strangle it
or
softly
make it stop
with a pillow
into its crib
I should
I know I should
it's the smart thing to do
but I won't.
-------------------------
I can hear
a heart beat
when my head phones
run out of song.
Perhaps it drums
for coming conflict
exhilaration, lust.
The highest highs
the lowest of lows.
though
the throbbing is
probably
just my own.
-------------------------------
Friend
A ruined city
with the petrified remains
of exhausted memories
#naked as the wind
A tether of hope
my favorite
bitter indulgence
We were great once.
We really were.
Now gnawed into
a splintered chicken bone.
--------------------------------
Brave new bravado
the times we live
will be the subject
of curious historians
baffled
I'm sure.
What could we do,
our most common
currency
mediocrity,
spent like foolish
royalty
on ill fitting robes
and whoring?
We could have thrived
and yet chose agony
------------------------------------
The last #campfire
was a sordid affair.
All wet and mosquitoes and
uncomfortable silence.
The ravage of an epic fight
against time
empty bottles
some underwear
and several hundred
sigaret buts.
My scarf
shred
into
a thousand pieces.
The end
of summer.
----------------------------
An honest Mistake
She was
like a beam
of sun
after spending
too much time
in shadow.
--------------------------
The first year is
the hardest.
Each spawning
leaves
untold millions
unsung.
The infant
that lived
rarely knows
how fortunate
it really is.
------------------------------
The words of a poem
Stranded
like
pebbles
in
a
river
of time.
Never.
Moving.
#poem
-----------------------
So here I
am.
A
leaf
that
was
let
go.
-------------------------
She lived
atop a charcoal
mountain
wailing
at her son's dying tree.
She weeped
till the water in
her fountain
became
a salty, hollow sort of sea.
----------------------------------------------
The patriarch
A dark cloud
drifts back into
his domicile
the pressure
mounts
thunder
and lightning
is set loose.
The soft tapping
of rain
afterwards.
-----------------
Brittle rays of shun shine
rake the classroom
warming sore knuckles
Suffer the little children
Suffer the old and frail
Suffer each day
For 't is the month
of May.
-------------------------------------
The End of The Line.
A multitude
of solipsistic
echo chambers
resonating
to
a
similar
tune
of desperate
lonely
teeth
gnashing
until
the sun
dies.
-----------------------------------
The Interview
Her jowl
confidently
slack
as she
lazily
dictates
interrupts
demands
demeans.
Power
her face
to me
revolting.
My wish
impotent
my fingers clawing into
her flesh
and drowning
that vile smile
for ever
into the deep.
--------------
As the god of wind
arced celestial
blue,
thunder
coat'd
the sky
red
and
the rain
whispered
her name.
------------------------------------
On the bus
Accosted by her tedium
her every breath
a strangle thorn
a vice
an accusation.
I'm strange because
I couldn't live
like you do.
He says.
She wasn't asking.
And
continues
not making eye contact
with a huff.
He pulls his pants up
and feels fat. Tries to read his book
but
loses the fight
in his head
and
stops reading his book.
---------------------------
Thinly
veiled
is
a
thing of
the
past.
Boldly
naked
are now
the
lies,
strutting
their stuff
like
a
peacock
in
heat.
-------------------------
Oh lord
Oh lord
they wanted
to know
why He had forsaken them.
Little did they know
the tantrums
the jealous love
the random acts of cruelty
and then
abandoned
forgotten
in the back
of a child's toy box.
-----------------------------
To their horror
death was
nothing
like they had imagined.
No pearly gates
No wings or
harps
No lake of fire
brimstone
or cackling demon.
There was
a void
a calm
silent
nothing
filled with them
and all the people
all at once
for
ever.
--------------------------
Language became
heavy.
Dank.
Ordering a beer,
a chat with a stranger,
a dissertation about physics,
a poem
or a tweet;
it did not matter.
The demon Degotloi lived still.
----------------------------------------
Rewind
The grass grows
backwards
The rain
falls up
The kiss
was a gift
The train
ahead of schedule.
The old man
living upstairs
sings a new song
and
takes off
his habitual
clothing.
Dead flowers
bloom
into green balls
of hope and
promise.
-----------------
Help
There is
another man
living in my mirror.
He's dry, hairy and old.
But it's his eyes
that frighten me
He smirks when I pass a reflective
surface
though I
covered all the mirrors
he's still there
biding his time
like an old root
in a cellar
-------------------------
What were you then
and when you take what you where
Consider yourself
and maybe forgive:
but mostly forget.
Each day a little less
looking back
One day
through the crack
and you're on the other side
of memory.
-----------------------------------
One by one
against a wall
thinner than paper.
War pleasantly marches on
and the poor will
romantically choke
as the sea rises to swallow
your children's children's toys.
We're fucked.
---------------------------------------
Having run out of reasons
not to eat the pastry
the croissant with cheese
the donut
the stroll to the bakery
has become
a waddle.
------------------------------------------
strangle it
or
softly
make it stop
with a pillow
into its crib
I should
I know I should
it's the smart thing to do
but I won't.
-------------------------
I can hear
a heart beat
when my head phones
run out of song.
Perhaps it drums
for coming conflict
exhilaration, lust.
The highest highs
the lowest of lows.
though
the throbbing is
probably
just my own.
-------------------------------
Friend
A ruined city
with the petrified remains
of exhausted memories
#naked as the wind
A tether of hope
my favorite
bitter indulgence
We were great once.
We really were.
Now gnawed into
a splintered chicken bone.
--------------------------------
Brave new bravado
the times we live
will be the subject
of curious historians
baffled
I'm sure.
What could we do,
our most common
currency
mediocrity,
spent like foolish
royalty
on ill fitting robes
and whoring?
We could have thrived
and yet chose agony
------------------------------------
The last #campfire
was a sordid affair.
All wet and mosquitoes and
uncomfortable silence.
The ravage of an epic fight
against time
empty bottles
some underwear
and several hundred
sigaret buts.
My scarf
shred
into
a thousand pieces.
The end
of summer.
----------------------------
An honest Mistake
She was
like a beam
of sun
after spending
too much time
in shadow.
--------------------------
The first year is
the hardest.
Each spawning
leaves
untold millions
unsung.
The infant
that lived
rarely knows
how fortunate
it really is.
------------------------------
The words of a poem
Stranded
like
pebbles
in
a
river
of time.
Never.
Moving.
#poem
-----------------------
So here I
am.
A
leaf
that
was
let
go.
-------------------------
She lived
atop a charcoal
mountain
wailing
at her son's dying tree.
She weeped
till the water in
her fountain
became
a salty, hollow sort of sea.
----------------------------------------------
The patriarch
A dark cloud
drifts back into
his domicile
the pressure
mounts
thunder
and lightning
is set loose.
The soft tapping
of rain
afterwards.
-----------------
Brittle rays of shun shine
rake the classroom
warming sore knuckles
Suffer the little children
Suffer the old and frail
Suffer each day
For 't is the month
of May.
-------------------------------------
The End of The Line.
A multitude
of solipsistic
echo chambers
resonating
to
a
similar
tune
of desperate
lonely
teeth
gnashing
until
the sun
dies.
-----------------------------------
The Interview
Her jowl
confidently
slack
as she
lazily
dictates
interrupts
demands
demeans.
Power
her face
to me
revolting.
My wish
impotent
my fingers clawing into
her flesh
and drowning
that vile smile
for ever
into the deep.
--------------
As the god of wind
arced celestial
blue,
thunder
coat'd
the sky
red
and
the rain
whispered
her name.
------------------------------------
On the bus
Accosted by her tedium
her every breath
a strangle thorn
a vice
an accusation.
I'm strange because
I couldn't live
like you do.
He says.
She wasn't asking.
And
continues
not making eye contact
with a huff.
He pulls his pants up
and feels fat. Tries to read his book
but
loses the fight
in his head
and
stops reading his book.
---------------------------
Thinly
veiled
is
a
thing of
the
past.
Boldly
naked
are now
the
lies,
strutting
their stuff
like
a
peacock
in
heat.
-------------------------
Oh lord
Oh lord
they wanted
to know
why He had forsaken them.
Little did they know
the tantrums
the jealous love
the random acts of cruelty
and then
abandoned
forgotten
in the back
of a child's toy box.
-----------------------------
To their horror
death was
nothing
like they had imagined.
No pearly gates
No wings or
harps
No lake of fire
brimstone
or cackling demon.
There was
a void
a calm
silent
nothing
filled with them
and all the people
all at once
for
ever.
--------------------------
Language became
heavy.
Dank.
Ordering a beer,
a chat with a stranger,
a dissertation about physics,
a poem
or a tweet;
it did not matter.
The demon Degotloi lived still.
----------------------------------------
Rewind
The grass grows
backwards
The rain
falls up
The kiss
was a gift
The train
ahead of schedule.
The old man
living upstairs
sings a new song
and
takes off
his habitual
clothing.
Dead flowers
bloom
into green balls
of hope and
promise.
-----------------
Help
There is
another man
living in my mirror.
He's dry, hairy and old.
But it's his eyes
that frighten me
He smirks when I pass a reflective
surface
though I
covered all the mirrors
he's still there
biding his time
like an old root
in a cellar
-------------------------
What were you then
and when you take what you where
Consider yourself
and maybe forgive:
but mostly forget.
Each day a little less
looking back
One day
through the crack
and you're on the other side
of memory.
-----------------------------------
One by one
against a wall
thinner than paper.
War pleasantly marches on
and the poor will
romantically choke
as the sea rises to swallow
your children's children's toys.
We're fucked.
---------------------------------------
Having run out of reasons
not to eat the pastry
the croissant with cheese
the donut
the stroll to the bakery
has become
a waddle.
------------------------------------------
November 24, 2020
New poems Zwei
The #storyteller's gaze
fell
by accident
on a teensy little
glitch.
A pocket universe.
It'll be around
for just
a sec.
A tiny loss and
the result
Endless division of one fraction of a moment and all that
lives
in that endless void
hungers for
that sliver of second.
----------------------------
A lingering palette
of taste exquise,
drawn out torment
her hand clawing
at
She thinks
she's
toying
with me.
-----------------------------------
Having run out of reasons
not to eat the pastry
the croissant with cheese
the donut
the stroll to the bakery
has become
a waddle.
-----------------------------------
Gdansk Gdansk Gdansk
on a rail
of iron
returning
never
Gdansk Gdansk Gdansk
a tunnel
passes
screamingly
regular
Gdansk Gdansk Gdansk
batteries
on empty
throbbing
whole
-----------------------------------
Love 2021
A kind touch
in the kitchen
she prepares
the meal
he does
the dishes
the kids are
playing
the TV is on
She looks outside
and misses
the #hunt
----------------
Rewind
The grass grows
backwards
The rain
falls up
The kiss
was a gift
The train
ahead of schedule.
The old man
living upstairs
sings a new song
and
takes off
his habitual
clothing.
The last time
comes
and goes
Dead flowers
bloom
into green balls
of hope and
promise.
------------------------
Help
There is
another man
living in my mirror.
He's dry, hairy and old.
But it's his eyes
that frighten me
He smirks when I pass a reflective
surface
though I
covered all the mirrors
he's still there
biding his time
like an old root
in a cellar
----------------------------
Squeezed
Did you turn off
the stove
dear
did you not forget
as requested
demanded
DON'T DROP IT
did you tip the tap
trip drip
did you do as
told
dear
did you do what you
did
because
I told
you
to
it
hold
me
to
it
----------------------------
Peom For Hope
Chernobyl
is doing fine.
The grass is green.
Wolves and bears roam.
The bird of prey eats
the offspring
of a deserted cat.
All in
raw but
better with us
ejected.
The memories and
buildings
still stand
tall
as
erected.
The toys crumble
and the invisible
howl
that damnable curse that
haunts all living things here,
burning churning corrupting,
the child of reckless gluttony and prideful daemons
is the price all gladly pay
to be rid of us.
( )
---------------------
What were you then
and when you take what you where
Consider yourself
and maybe forgive:
but mostly forget.
Each day a little less
looking back
One day
through the crack
and you're on the other side
of memory.
---------------------
Having run out of reasons
not to eat the pastry
the croissant with cheese
the donut
the stroll to the bakery
has become
a waddle.
----------------------
Why invent #paradise?
To shield the undeserving
from
the rage
of countless duped
Making immoral
cruelty
a
bearable
burden
to
haul.
Of course.
More
interesting
to me is
how?
Who bought the lie and told his children?
#vss365
----------------------
She responded
without facing me
and when I did
she feigned insult
treachery
defeat.
How skillfully
and unknowing
did she bleed and
starve
and kill
that friendship
that love
that old leathery
heart.
The problem is not
the rules.
There will always be too many.
The problem is
people are
just not worth it.
----------------------
The world discards
embarrassment
and boldly
takes a stand
for the little people
for you
for me
for all the forgotten treasures.
Be yourself. You. Be. Yourself. Be Yourself.
The world is wearing a pink tutu
thick powdery make up
lip stick on her teeth
and blindly drunk
shouting obscenities
and passers by
are embarrassed.
----------------------
The photograph has
changed.
What should be a frozen
memory
smiles
less
innocently
the lips
a tout
lie
the eyes
betray
the years that have
sped since:
the whisp in the corner of your eye
is waiting.
fell
by accident
on a teensy little
glitch.
A pocket universe.
It'll be around
for just
a sec.
A tiny loss and
the result
Endless division of one fraction of a moment and all that
lives
in that endless void
hungers for
that sliver of second.
----------------------------
A lingering palette
of taste exquise,
drawn out torment
her hand clawing
at
She thinks
she's
toying
with me.
-----------------------------------
Having run out of reasons
not to eat the pastry
the croissant with cheese
the donut
the stroll to the bakery
has become
a waddle.
-----------------------------------
Gdansk Gdansk Gdansk
on a rail
of iron
returning
never
Gdansk Gdansk Gdansk
a tunnel
passes
screamingly
regular
Gdansk Gdansk Gdansk
batteries
on empty
throbbing
whole
-----------------------------------
Love 2021
A kind touch
in the kitchen
she prepares
the meal
he does
the dishes
the kids are
playing
the TV is on
She looks outside
and misses
the #hunt
----------------
Rewind
The grass grows
backwards
The rain
falls up
The kiss
was a gift
The train
ahead of schedule.
The old man
living upstairs
sings a new song
and
takes off
his habitual
clothing.
The last time
comes
and goes
Dead flowers
bloom
into green balls
of hope and
promise.
------------------------
Help
There is
another man
living in my mirror.
He's dry, hairy and old.
But it's his eyes
that frighten me
He smirks when I pass a reflective
surface
though I
covered all the mirrors
he's still there
biding his time
like an old root
in a cellar
----------------------------
Squeezed
Did you turn off
the stove
dear
did you not forget
as requested
demanded
DON'T DROP IT
did you tip the tap
trip drip
did you do as
told
dear
did you do what you
did
because
I told
you
to
it
hold
me
to
it
----------------------------
Peom For Hope
Chernobyl
is doing fine.
The grass is green.
Wolves and bears roam.
The bird of prey eats
the offspring
of a deserted cat.
All in
raw but
better with us
ejected.
The memories and
buildings
still stand
tall
as
erected.
The toys crumble
and the invisible
howl
that damnable curse that
haunts all living things here,
burning churning corrupting,
the child of reckless gluttony and prideful daemons
is the price all gladly pay
to be rid of us.
( )
---------------------
What were you then
and when you take what you where
Consider yourself
and maybe forgive:
but mostly forget.
Each day a little less
looking back
One day
through the crack
and you're on the other side
of memory.
---------------------
Having run out of reasons
not to eat the pastry
the croissant with cheese
the donut
the stroll to the bakery
has become
a waddle.
----------------------
Why invent #paradise?
To shield the undeserving
from
the rage
of countless duped
Making immoral
cruelty
a
bearable
burden
to
haul.
Of course.
More
interesting
to me is
how?
Who bought the lie and told his children?
#vss365
----------------------
She responded
without facing me
and when I did
she feigned insult
treachery
defeat.
How skillfully
and unknowing
did she bleed and
starve
and kill
that friendship
that love
that old leathery
heart.
The problem is not
the rules.
There will always be too many.
The problem is
people are
just not worth it.
----------------------
The world discards
embarrassment
and boldly
takes a stand
for the little people
for you
for me
for all the forgotten treasures.
Be yourself. You. Be. Yourself. Be Yourself.
The world is wearing a pink tutu
thick powdery make up
lip stick on her teeth
and blindly drunk
shouting obscenities
and passers by
are embarrassed.
----------------------
The photograph has
changed.
What should be a frozen
memory
smiles
less
innocently
the lips
a tout
lie
the eyes
betray
the years that have
sped since:
the whisp in the corner of your eye
is waiting.
August 16, 2019
New poems
Repression
How #curious ,
titillating,
that desperate
want,
till filled
that need
is discarded
for a new
thirst
to be sated
by those lips
alone;
drowning in a desert of slaked desires.
-------------------------------------------
A strangle held
of chest and mind
riled and felled
My grandfather in kind
That reflexion speaks
of
wars fought
and lost
again
These eyes await
another spring.
(#poem)
-------------------------------------------
What makes a decision
always
at its core
not the argument that precedes
but a snarl
and grin
that lives
at the deepest
edge,
effort and mind
duly compromised.
Regret shimmers back
in the glint of an amber glass
Nothing can change
this rabid thing
that won't be tamed. The Cut
-------------------------------------------
It waited, as if surprised
before spouting
like a childish fountain
except red
-------------------------------------------
Quagmire of Dirt
The streets are empty
Even
The phones are gone.
Cold
Wet
Lonely
I hide from the flashing lights
of a police car in
this quagmire of dirt.
And I wish I missed people.
-------------------------------------------
As a precaution, it’s wise to not explode.
Unless of course
you’re a bomb
And your time has come.
Then
By all means
No one will blame you
-------------------------------------------
Dear Madam/Sir,
Enter ax
Open Location
Step three: Wither.exe
Follow Train
If destination is not4:30
Repeat step three
Exit the wind
Kind regards,
Martin
-------------------------------------------
Everything
is
a
lie
except
the beauty
of
your
smile.
-------------------------------------------
For long years
there could be no other.
A cold
self inflicted
ailment
and her name
her smile
her wicked eyes
And now she's grown broad
her lips thin
and stare blank
stabbing me
one last time:
she was never really there,
that wonderful creature.
-------------------------------------------
Perfect Day
Bare feet rustle through dry leaves
and kick up
twigs
and
empty candy wrappers
as I run
down the hill
to say hi.
You smile back.
The sun is shining.
-------------------------------------------
Mellow in the shade
you on my belly, engulfed in your book,
me pretending; instead reading the light in your eyes
as its bobbing from page to page.
-------------------------------------------
The Whispy Wail
Of a dying Cockroach
At the End
of her
Shoe.
-------------------------------------------
Fickle Frackle Font
Which way leans
the gibber jabberwock
Is it left
Is it right
Or clean
in the middle
Which ever
way
the clock ticks those
choices
away
and life
a fickle #fuse indeed.
-------------------------------------------
Winter
Her face her face
held so dear
Yet
bad-um bad-ump
is treacherous
that heart.
Turned to stone
then clay
then dust
for you know it
you're looking
at an empty old hand
and one more jeering whisper.
-------------------------------------------
Love 2019
Expressed in superlatives
the stream
is
inhabited
by mute
entertainers
only.
Always on brand
she gah'd and ooh'd and chirped.
He liked and commented.
The exchange of
digestible nothings
ensues
with or without
much input.
The selfie
winks back
ever so bright.
The end
of
history
is
a
smiley.
-------------------------------------------
Today
I found myself wandering
pondering
what was that
one thousand year old scream's
name again?
I wonder.
Is a tree a tree
if no one is chopping it into pieces?
The name
my father's father's father's
threw into a
rainy night:
what was her name?
-------------------------------------------
All that is
is a lie
and let that be
the one thing
that finally
soothes your soul.
The men in
suits
promising
The young couple
planting trees
The comrades
clasping your arm
The philosophers
The football teams
The stars
The sea.
The lover's starry eyes
Her hands
His trembling lips
Lies
The ceiling
The walls
The grass that grows
for ever
a lie
Our bones
Our hides
Our hearts
all
of it.
All a lie.
All of it.
Let go.
It's ok. You can let go now
It's nearly over.
-------------------------------------------
Which way leans
the gibber jabberwock
Is it left
Is it right
Or clean
in the middle
Which ever
way
the clock ticks those
choices
away
and life
a fickle #fuse indeed.
-------------------------------------------
The #cellar
was a place
of banishment.
The lights were
out.
The shadows
hungered.
The voice that whispered
lingers still.
The old man
remembers.
-------------------------------------------
Relish the #darkness.
Gorge yourselves
on the silent hours
when the bleating has finally ceased
and the only thing
left moving
has tiny wings
and honesty.
-------------------------------------------
Iron Y
With the release
of data
came
the death
of knowledge.
-------------------------------------------
Expressed in superlatives
the stream
is
inhabited
by mute
entertainers
only.
Always on brand
she gah'd and ooh'd and chirped.
He liked and commented.
The exchange of
digestible nothings.
The selfie
winks back
ever so bright.
The end
of
history
is
a
smiley.
-------------------------------------------
Fascination is a strange thing
indeed
Why does it strike?
Why can an idea or
object grab our mind
so completely
without even trying?
The peculiar is good
for only a moment
but truly intrigued?
How rare indeed
and
then to discover
per chance
that
sometimes
it is reciprook
-------------------------------------------
Love 2019
Expressed in superlatives
the stream
is
inhabited
by mute
entertainers
only.
Always on brand
she gah'd and ooh'd and chirped.
He liked and commented.
The exchange of
digestible nothings
ensues
with or without
much input.
The selfie
winks back
ever so bright.
The end
of
history
is
a
smiley.
-------------------------------------------
Der Mensch
Sapped of soul but not
of spite
A red corrupt bloom
spread across his white.
An obedient servant,
vicious, sour, the opinions of a king.
Beneath the surface
a tired and frightened little thing.
-------------------------------------------
True terror
I think
is when
no stories
frighten any longer
when
cosmic horror
and
1984
and
WOII
etc
are
a
gassy
encumbrance
that can't outlive a cup of tea.
When the machine of war
is
literally
shredding babes into mulch
and any mention
is considered
hopelessly out of touch.
------------------------------------------
A Day of Bleating
Thought,
day by day,
to strangle
the impulse
the rage
the animal.
And when old and terrified and
alone
and when that old dog whines
outside, beneath every door,
left unopened,
does the child scream for his mother? The burning spokes of time
pillaged and left in ruin
by a slow and whimpering
remnant.
------------------------------------------
Glazing at the sun
forever cast in
dust.
--------------------------------------
Fascination is a strange thing
indeed
Why does it strike?
Why can an idea or
object grab our mind
so completely
without even trying?
The peculiar is good
for only a moment
but truly intrigued?
How rare indeed
and
then to discover
per chance
that
sometimes
it is reciprook
--------------------------------------------
Good Morning Cackle
To discover
that
your life in particular
is a study
in what
it takes
to turn
a man
into
a beast
----------------------------------------
Autumn
The crown sheds
its weave
as the trunk
pulls in
on itself,
harder,
made ready for worse to
come.
And thoughts are sucked up
much
much
slower
from the cold
cold
ground.
------------------------------------------
Gasp
The living
outnumber
the dead
Nine to one
approximately
8 Billion and
they all want cars
and
they all want babies
and
they all went splat
------------------------------------------
All must end.
All that lives
and thrives
and struggles and
tries.
All that weeps
and laughs
The Sun
The Sky
Even the mighty forest must wither
and die.
Then contemplate.
Life is Death
but dancing.
------------------------------------------
The after
Selfish Selfish
Me Me Me
What I miss most
is the way she looked
when she thought
I wouldn't see.
How #curious ,
titillating,
that desperate
want,
till filled
that need
is discarded
for a new
thirst
to be sated
by those lips
alone;
drowning in a desert of slaked desires.
-------------------------------------------
A strangle held
of chest and mind
riled and felled
My grandfather in kind
That reflexion speaks
of
wars fought
and lost
again
These eyes await
another spring.
(#poem)
-------------------------------------------
What makes a decision
always
at its core
not the argument that precedes
but a snarl
and grin
that lives
at the deepest
edge,
effort and mind
duly compromised.
Regret shimmers back
in the glint of an amber glass
Nothing can change
this rabid thing
that won't be tamed. The Cut
-------------------------------------------
It waited, as if surprised
before spouting
like a childish fountain
except red
-------------------------------------------
Quagmire of Dirt
The streets are empty
Even
The phones are gone.
Cold
Wet
Lonely
I hide from the flashing lights
of a police car in
this quagmire of dirt.
And I wish I missed people.
-------------------------------------------
As a precaution, it’s wise to not explode.
Unless of course
you’re a bomb
And your time has come.
Then
By all means
No one will blame you
-------------------------------------------
Dear Madam/Sir,
Enter ax
Open Location
Step three: Wither.exe
Follow Train
If destination is not4:30
Repeat step three
Exit the wind
Kind regards,
Martin
-------------------------------------------
Everything
is
a
lie
except
the beauty
of
your
smile.
-------------------------------------------
For long years
there could be no other.
A cold
self inflicted
ailment
and her name
her smile
her wicked eyes
And now she's grown broad
her lips thin
and stare blank
stabbing me
one last time:
she was never really there,
that wonderful creature.
-------------------------------------------
Perfect Day
Bare feet rustle through dry leaves
and kick up
twigs
and
empty candy wrappers
as I run
down the hill
to say hi.
You smile back.
The sun is shining.
-------------------------------------------
Mellow in the shade
you on my belly, engulfed in your book,
me pretending; instead reading the light in your eyes
as its bobbing from page to page.
-------------------------------------------
The Whispy Wail
Of a dying Cockroach
At the End
of her
Shoe.
-------------------------------------------
Fickle Frackle Font
Which way leans
the gibber jabberwock
Is it left
Is it right
Or clean
in the middle
Which ever
way
the clock ticks those
choices
away
and life
a fickle #fuse indeed.
-------------------------------------------
Winter
Her face her face
held so dear
Yet
bad-um bad-ump
is treacherous
that heart.
Turned to stone
then clay
then dust
for you know it
you're looking
at an empty old hand
and one more jeering whisper.
-------------------------------------------
Love 2019
Expressed in superlatives
the stream
is
inhabited
by mute
entertainers
only.
Always on brand
she gah'd and ooh'd and chirped.
He liked and commented.
The exchange of
digestible nothings
ensues
with or without
much input.
The selfie
winks back
ever so bright.
The end
of
history
is
a
smiley.
-------------------------------------------
Today
I found myself wandering
pondering
what was that
one thousand year old scream's
name again?
I wonder.
Is a tree a tree
if no one is chopping it into pieces?
The name
my father's father's father's
threw into a
rainy night:
what was her name?
-------------------------------------------
All that is
is a lie
and let that be
the one thing
that finally
soothes your soul.
The men in
suits
promising
The young couple
planting trees
The comrades
clasping your arm
The philosophers
The football teams
The stars
The sea.
The lover's starry eyes
Her hands
His trembling lips
Lies
The ceiling
The walls
The grass that grows
for ever
a lie
Our bones
Our hides
Our hearts
all
of it.
All a lie.
All of it.
Let go.
It's ok. You can let go now
It's nearly over.
-------------------------------------------
Which way leans
the gibber jabberwock
Is it left
Is it right
Or clean
in the middle
Which ever
way
the clock ticks those
choices
away
and life
a fickle #fuse indeed.
-------------------------------------------
The #cellar
was a place
of banishment.
The lights were
out.
The shadows
hungered.
The voice that whispered
lingers still.
The old man
remembers.
-------------------------------------------
Relish the #darkness.
Gorge yourselves
on the silent hours
when the bleating has finally ceased
and the only thing
left moving
has tiny wings
and honesty.
-------------------------------------------
Iron Y
With the release
of data
came
the death
of knowledge.
-------------------------------------------
Expressed in superlatives
the stream
is
inhabited
by mute
entertainers
only.
Always on brand
she gah'd and ooh'd and chirped.
He liked and commented.
The exchange of
digestible nothings.
The selfie
winks back
ever so bright.
The end
of
history
is
a
smiley.
-------------------------------------------
Fascination is a strange thing
indeed
Why does it strike?
Why can an idea or
object grab our mind
so completely
without even trying?
The peculiar is good
for only a moment
but truly intrigued?
How rare indeed
and
then to discover
per chance
that
sometimes
it is reciprook
-------------------------------------------
Love 2019
Expressed in superlatives
the stream
is
inhabited
by mute
entertainers
only.
Always on brand
she gah'd and ooh'd and chirped.
He liked and commented.
The exchange of
digestible nothings
ensues
with or without
much input.
The selfie
winks back
ever so bright.
The end
of
history
is
a
smiley.
-------------------------------------------
Der Mensch
Sapped of soul but not
of spite
A red corrupt bloom
spread across his white.
An obedient servant,
vicious, sour, the opinions of a king.
Beneath the surface
a tired and frightened little thing.
-------------------------------------------
True terror
I think
is when
no stories
frighten any longer
when
cosmic horror
and
1984
and
WOII
etc
are
a
gassy
encumbrance
that can't outlive a cup of tea.
When the machine of war
is
literally
shredding babes into mulch
and any mention
is considered
hopelessly out of touch.
------------------------------------------
A Day of Bleating
Thought,
day by day,
to strangle
the impulse
the rage
the animal.
And when old and terrified and
alone
and when that old dog whines
outside, beneath every door,
left unopened,
does the child scream for his mother? The burning spokes of time
pillaged and left in ruin
by a slow and whimpering
remnant.
------------------------------------------
Glazing at the sun
forever cast in
dust.
--------------------------------------
Fascination is a strange thing
indeed
Why does it strike?
Why can an idea or
object grab our mind
so completely
without even trying?
The peculiar is good
for only a moment
but truly intrigued?
How rare indeed
and
then to discover
per chance
that
sometimes
it is reciprook
--------------------------------------------
Good Morning Cackle
To discover
that
your life in particular
is a study
in what
it takes
to turn
a man
into
a beast
----------------------------------------
Autumn
The crown sheds
its weave
as the trunk
pulls in
on itself,
harder,
made ready for worse to
come.
And thoughts are sucked up
much
much
slower
from the cold
cold
ground.
------------------------------------------
Gasp
The living
outnumber
the dead
Nine to one
approximately
8 Billion and
they all want cars
and
they all want babies
and
they all went splat
------------------------------------------
All must end.
All that lives
and thrives
and struggles and
tries.
All that weeps
and laughs
The Sun
The Sky
Even the mighty forest must wither
and die.
Then contemplate.
Life is Death
but dancing.
------------------------------------------
The after
Selfish Selfish
Me Me Me
What I miss most
is the way she looked
when she thought
I wouldn't see.
June 6, 2018
Chapter One: Four Men and the Sea
The sea waited patiently for the upstart metropolis to crumble. The city faltered and aged, but found its heart surrounded time and again by new buildings, ever higher and more prideful.
The inhabitants relentlessly rebuilt their monumental hovel, trampling the past into the ground as they did.
The sea knew what the people of the metropolis did not, so it waited both in eager anticipation and uncaring viciousness.
The people remained ignorant of this drama, as the song of aeons cannot be heard by frail, mortal creatures rushing through their busy lives. The insect that lives but a day doesn't grasp the notion of a year.
The sea was well aware.
One day the city would fall.
~
Richard Dempsey had been trailing his prey all day. He wasn't a professional private investigator by any means, but he sure felt like one after such a harrowing day. Following a man without being seen is a nerve-wracking business. There had been a few close calls, certainly. This Sunder Kaine character was quite the jittery fellow, always looking over his shoulder, as if he expected or sensed Dempsey was on his tail.
You'd think Dempsey would stand out: a big, fat man with a camera shouldn't be too hard to spot. Yet somehow, he had not been spotted yet.
After following Kaine for a whole day, Dempsey was proud of his accomplishment. He was also tired. Mostly, he was very, very bored.
Kaine had done a lot of walking. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his wandering. He trudged on and on, going left or right seemingly at random and at a steady pace, too.
The most exciting thing Kaine had done all day was when he took a break at the terrace of a bar on the corner of some cosy little street. He paid the waitress without looking at her and waved her away with one hand as she picked up the crowns he’d flicked onto the table. He sipped his tea, arrogantly basking in the sun.
Like a snake, Dempsey thought. A leathery, grey lizard, spending too much time and money having his nails done at the salon, tightly fit in an impeccable suit with matching, expensive tie. The business outfit with that unmistakable hint of class that he wore like a second skin. Anonymous and forgettable, yet stylish, prideful and wealthy.
Magnificent as he looked, it made him one of the soulless thousands just like him. The type of snake that would devour rodents like Dempsey, still kicking and screaming, the same aristocratic disdain condemning his poor taste above all else.
That was the one moment Dempsey was certain Kaine was in fact watching him, fully aware Dempsey was following him, taking pictures throughout the day. The idea Kaine looked like some Richard eating lizard hadn't popped into his head for no reason. Cold sweat gushed off his body when the tea-sipping businessman rested his dark, mournful eyes on him, thoughtlessly looking Dempsey in the eyes.
But the eyes had wandered off, oblivious of the possibility he was actually staying close to him, an obese shadow with long, curly hair.
Dempsey was new to the profession, so he let himself off the hook for panicking rather quickly. Kaine had not in fact spotted him, there was no real need to berate himself. Well, that's what Dempsey told himself at least.
Kaine returned to his car and Dempsey followed, stumbling into his smaller, poorly maintained excuse for one. In pursuit of Kaine's slick automobile, as the sun continued towards the horizon, they each left the intricacies of the metropolis behind.
~
The day was coming to a close as Kaine finally parked his beautiful vehicle far outside of the city, close to the coast. He left his car and strode towards three gentlemen who were waiting for him on the beach. What a strange place to meet friends, if that’s what they were. Dempsey hadn't been so far out of the city in a long time. The air was different and the incessant buzz of a few million people was gone. There was only the sea and wind here.
Kaine hadn't changed his perfect attire and stood out on the sandy shore, even though his friends wore similar clothes. The four made an odd ensemble. Four perfectly groomed gentlemen meeting on the beach at a late hour.
Kaine had led Dempsey through a veritable maze mapping the entire city. The labyrinthine metropolis stood in the background now, far, far away from this place.
Dempsey's enormous heart was beating fast. His breath heavy, he mopped the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. He wasn't sure why he was anxious, the nauseating boredom all but forgotten. All day he’d trailed Kaine and it had led to this bizarre meeting. Whatever was happening, it better make for some decent photographs. Pictures that would bag him a well-deserved and fat payday.
Dempsey checked his old camera again, which unfortunately still used film. Considering the job he was on, bringing this particular camera wasn't too bright. In his defence, Richard didn't have a choice in the matter. It was his only camera with the light sensitivity to keep up with his quarry. Dempsey had had the foresight to bring this old, obsolete camera as well as his digital one. He had dropped the newer model last year and it only really worked in perfect lighting now.
Dempsey didn't care for his newer model. He loved the old one and was glad to use it.
What luck! The four of them stood there, all with their arms limp to their sides, talking. There was something off about all of it, but Dempsey couldn't put his finger on what was wrong. Regardless, he started clicking away, taking picture after picture.
Maybe I should get out of the car, get a bit closer to these four chaps, Dempsey thought. He wasn't sure he’d got a clear picture of them and couldn't check on his antiquated camera.
There was something peculiar about these men. Meeting at such an odd place had to mean something and he wanted to find out what. Uncharacteristic feelings of pride and the sheer will to succeed propelled him forward, past any doubts he had. For the first time in his life, he felt elated about making an effort. He was going to earn his fee and no mistake. He'd show them! He would take the best photographs any private investigator had ever taken. He'd get to the bottom of this and he'd weave a story for the world to eat up with his pictures. Raising detecting to an art: Richard Dempsey, PI. He could picture it already: his name on a door, his office, the dame that wanders in with her desperate story.
Richard snuck out of the car. Quietly. Like a professional. Or he would have if he hadn't gotten his coat stuck behind his seat-belt, making a rattling sound as metal hit metal. “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath before smoothly walking away from the car, looking at the four gentlemen out the corner of his eye. They still hadn’t noticed him and kept their dispassionate conversation going. “Excellent,” Richard Dempsey thought with relief. For a moment he had almost messed things up again, like so many times in the past.
Perhaps he was not cut out to be the best detective in the world after all. Becoming a passable one would still be an achievement, surely.
And so Dempsey goaded himself towards the four men, lonely on that forlorn beach, whipping himself with self-doubt and memories of events the rest of world had forgotten.
In the dimming light he could sneak up on them and take pictures from atop a dune. The remaining light as the sun set would outline their figures perfectly.
And that's what he did. He passed them from a safe distance, made sure they did not have line of sight and then changed direction towards them, sneaking up the dune. The sand gave way under his bulk as he ploughed through. Richard debated crawling the last few metres. He went with silently creeping instead. Pulling his massive carcass through the sand would make more noise and the light was receding; he didn’t want to miss this opportunity. These four mysterious businessmen would surely not stick around much longer.
For the fat man, this stealthy approach was an exertion. Sweat leaked from his forehead and armpits. Embarrassed even though no one watched him, he soldiered on.
He managed to get on top of the dune, where he silently lay down, sizing up his prey. He had a perfect sight of all four of them now. He shot a few beautiful pictures as he took a closer look. All four wore nearly identical suits. All four had the same back-combed hair and sharp chins. They were so similar, if not for mild differences, they would have looked identical. Slight details set them apart: their ties perhaps, or their choice of cufflinks. The interchangeable men seemed to have stepped out of the same mould, merely swapping minor accessories, not unlike toy figures.
Kaine's pale features were coloured rose by the setting sun. His face was as emotionless now as it had been all day. Meeting his associates here had not lifted his spirits at all. In fact, all four men wore the same sour expression and as they spoke none of them moved much, if at all. Their hands didn't go into their pockets, none of them moved their arms or hands to accentuate whatever they were saying. They didn't even move their feet. Instead, they just stood there.
If it had been one of them, he would have stood out as especially wooden and peculiar. Noticing the odd mannerisms in all four of them was perplexing. On top of which, it was getting dark now.
Their mouths opened and shut, barely moving their lips as they conversed. As one spoke, the others listened. They did not interrupt each other. Nor did they smile or react to what was being said.
What on earth were those weirdos talking about? Perhaps they barely moved as a form of posturing, like poker players. Was this how wealthy people conversed in private? It had to be some sort of shady deal. If only he had one of those listening devices they used in the movies. Maybe he'd use the money he got from this job to buy one. Well, partially. He had other expenses. Perhaps he'd buy it if it wasn't too costly. He'd need one were he to become a true detective worth his salt.
Straining, Richard tried to make out what they were saying. With the sea so close, he couldn't make out much. His mind wandered as he took in the sea.
As the sun sank further, the natural light coloured the dunes and sea in reds and dark blues. Far on the horizon, the city leaked its false paint into the otherwise gorgeous vista. Vile neons and dead TL lighting were like children trying to get noticed compared to the imperious sun. whose large brush strokes painted the blocks of stone, wood and cemented metal. The human effort paled in comparison, wearing its defeat with petulant and ignorant defiance.
~
With a whirring sound the camera made it known to the world it was out of film. Dempsey woke from his reveries with a start, his heart pounding. Did they notice? Did they hear? How would he explain his presence and the camera to these four sinister characters?
Why anyone would entrust him with a sensitive matter such as this was beyond him. The idea he could be in real danger had not entered his mind until this very moment.
Thankfully, they hadn’t noticed.
He'd have to change the film if he wanted to take more pictures. He gulped for air and silently changed it, which turned out to be tricky, planted on his belly on top of a dune, the light receding and him sinking in the loose sand. He got dirt on his used film and cursed out loud, regretting it immediately. He had to stay quiet, damn it! He blew the sand off, fidgeted with his camera and messed about with the old film. Getting it into the plastic container wasn't working out as intended.
Dempsey noticed his hands were shaking as he put the film into the camera. At last, the camera whirred contently as it sucked in the new film. He came prepared for this, holding it close to his chest: the noise barely made it out. Richard himself certainly didn't discern the device over his heart's distressed cadence.
After what seemed like forever, he rose his head above the top of the dune, hopeful the men hadn’t noticed his fidgeting and moving. They hadn't. They’d moved off, closer to the sea. Squinting, Dempsey realised the four men stood with their feet firmly in the water.
In a row, facing the sinking sun, standing at the edge of the sea, as the waves wet their pantaloons. The four dark shapes stood out from the lit-up sea. Their shadows danced and faded, clawing towards the dune Dempsey was on. The setting sun painted the sea dark red and all else sunk in darkness. There was no artificial light here, even if they were only hours away from the city, somehow this beach was a deserted place, untouched by human traffic and trash.
The phoney light of the Metropolis never looked more appealing, twinkling in the distance.
Dempsey quickly shot off more pictures of these four bizarre men. In his excitement he noticed his heart thumping loudly in his ears.
All four of them stepped forward two strides in perfect, robotic unison. The sea rose and fell. Dismayed, Dempsey stopped taking photos. What on earth was going on? On top of his dune, he gawked in bewilderment at the four strangest men he'd ever seen.
Events had passed the point where things were odd. This was no longer amusing. Dempsey took a few more shots and debated feverishly if he should call it a night. He did not understand what was happening but it felt off to a degree he would never have imagined. Dempsey was more experienced than he gave himself credit for. He had seen humankind at its worst, many times over. Yet this scene, these men, awoke in him a fear and loathing he was unfamiliar with. Whatever it was they were doing, he got it on camera.
With a sense of foreboding, Dempsey decided it was time to go. Whatever came next, it wouldn't be anything pleasant. Not with these four freaks. This was not some game. These were not some lads having a few too many and a laugh. They stood there, up to their ankles in sea water. Perfectly calm like before when they were having a conversation. Their serious manner made them all the more unnerving. Besides, the light was almost gone. The next pictures would be rubbish anyway.
Yet again, the frightened coward stayed put, despite his craven heart. With grim determination he did not abandon his post. Instead, he chose to stay and face whatever this was. These men were hiding something foul, something evil and Dempsey would bring it to light!
They were up to their knees in the water now, still barely moving. One of them stepped forward. In the dimming light, Dempsey couldn't tell for sure, but somehow knew that it was Kaine who was walking forward deeper into the water, primus inter pares, first among his equals, until he was waist-deep in the water. The sea smacked all four men from all sides but they stood tall and unaffected, like pillars of stone.
The authority of Kaine stood firm, undaunted by the sea as it flowed away from him in hasty retreat after each attempt to topple him failed. His clothes moved with the ebb and flow, but he himself seemed unmoved by the incessant flow of water.
Richard's fear rose to a new peak as he became aware of a clicking sound he could just barely make out above the sound of the sea. As Dempsey listened more closely, he distinguished a rasping that cut off with wet, gurgling snaps. An angry voice that rose in pitch and volume. Kaine… His unearthly screeching became louder and louder. Dempsey could clearly make it out now that he knew what to listen for.
A scream blasted through the wind and noise of the sea. As the light of the sun finally faded, Kaine's howl broke off in a sudden, ecstatic note. All four men were almost gone, merging into the darkness that lay in front of Dempsey.
Suddenly, the four men turned and their gaze fell straight on Dempsey.
Richard could tell they were looking at him because their eyes lit up a hungry yellow, brazen as the sun and the sea. That yellow sheen outlined their passive faces, made all the more gaunt and rubbery by the stark contrast with those glowing, ravenous eyes.
Kaine commanded his fellows with a single, vicious bark, sending them to Dempsey with one pointing finger. They crouched down low, becoming all but invisible amidst the waves on that sunless beach. In the darkness it appeared as if they hopped and leaped out of the sea and up the dune on all fours, three sets of fiery, glowing eyes darting towards Dempsey, silent as they approached at a terrible pace.
~
“They wore glasses”, Dempsey told himself as he turned and stumbled down the dune before running faster than he’d ever run in his life. They wore glasses and those caught the light, he thought. They wore glasses, must have been glasses. Must have been. Dempsey ran for all he was worth, his mind numb, repeating the same line over and over to himself. In the furthest depths of his rattled mind he was impressed with the speed he mustered, the wind ringing in his ears, sand propelled in all directions.
“They wore glasses,” Dempsey pleaded out loud as he reached his car, opened the door and turned the key in the ignition. As he raced off, he blubbered it again to himself: “They wore glasses.”
Except they moved like animals. Worse than animals.
Except they hadn't worn glasses, no matter how often he repeated it to himself, any of them. He’d had plenty of time to see these men and none of them wore glasses, nor was there any light that could reflect in those non-existent glasses. Dempsey raced home, distancing himself from those four men, those things, but not from the fear that had a firm grip on his poor, struggling heart.
Read the rest in 'Four Men and the Sea'. You can purchase it here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C94JZDY. Thanks for the support.
The inhabitants relentlessly rebuilt their monumental hovel, trampling the past into the ground as they did.
The sea knew what the people of the metropolis did not, so it waited both in eager anticipation and uncaring viciousness.
The people remained ignorant of this drama, as the song of aeons cannot be heard by frail, mortal creatures rushing through their busy lives. The insect that lives but a day doesn't grasp the notion of a year.
The sea was well aware.
One day the city would fall.
~
Richard Dempsey had been trailing his prey all day. He wasn't a professional private investigator by any means, but he sure felt like one after such a harrowing day. Following a man without being seen is a nerve-wracking business. There had been a few close calls, certainly. This Sunder Kaine character was quite the jittery fellow, always looking over his shoulder, as if he expected or sensed Dempsey was on his tail.
You'd think Dempsey would stand out: a big, fat man with a camera shouldn't be too hard to spot. Yet somehow, he had not been spotted yet.
After following Kaine for a whole day, Dempsey was proud of his accomplishment. He was also tired. Mostly, he was very, very bored.
Kaine had done a lot of walking. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his wandering. He trudged on and on, going left or right seemingly at random and at a steady pace, too.
The most exciting thing Kaine had done all day was when he took a break at the terrace of a bar on the corner of some cosy little street. He paid the waitress without looking at her and waved her away with one hand as she picked up the crowns he’d flicked onto the table. He sipped his tea, arrogantly basking in the sun.
Like a snake, Dempsey thought. A leathery, grey lizard, spending too much time and money having his nails done at the salon, tightly fit in an impeccable suit with matching, expensive tie. The business outfit with that unmistakable hint of class that he wore like a second skin. Anonymous and forgettable, yet stylish, prideful and wealthy.
Magnificent as he looked, it made him one of the soulless thousands just like him. The type of snake that would devour rodents like Dempsey, still kicking and screaming, the same aristocratic disdain condemning his poor taste above all else.
That was the one moment Dempsey was certain Kaine was in fact watching him, fully aware Dempsey was following him, taking pictures throughout the day. The idea Kaine looked like some Richard eating lizard hadn't popped into his head for no reason. Cold sweat gushed off his body when the tea-sipping businessman rested his dark, mournful eyes on him, thoughtlessly looking Dempsey in the eyes.
But the eyes had wandered off, oblivious of the possibility he was actually staying close to him, an obese shadow with long, curly hair.
Dempsey was new to the profession, so he let himself off the hook for panicking rather quickly. Kaine had not in fact spotted him, there was no real need to berate himself. Well, that's what Dempsey told himself at least.
Kaine returned to his car and Dempsey followed, stumbling into his smaller, poorly maintained excuse for one. In pursuit of Kaine's slick automobile, as the sun continued towards the horizon, they each left the intricacies of the metropolis behind.
~
The day was coming to a close as Kaine finally parked his beautiful vehicle far outside of the city, close to the coast. He left his car and strode towards three gentlemen who were waiting for him on the beach. What a strange place to meet friends, if that’s what they were. Dempsey hadn't been so far out of the city in a long time. The air was different and the incessant buzz of a few million people was gone. There was only the sea and wind here.
Kaine hadn't changed his perfect attire and stood out on the sandy shore, even though his friends wore similar clothes. The four made an odd ensemble. Four perfectly groomed gentlemen meeting on the beach at a late hour.
Kaine had led Dempsey through a veritable maze mapping the entire city. The labyrinthine metropolis stood in the background now, far, far away from this place.
Dempsey's enormous heart was beating fast. His breath heavy, he mopped the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. He wasn't sure why he was anxious, the nauseating boredom all but forgotten. All day he’d trailed Kaine and it had led to this bizarre meeting. Whatever was happening, it better make for some decent photographs. Pictures that would bag him a well-deserved and fat payday.
Dempsey checked his old camera again, which unfortunately still used film. Considering the job he was on, bringing this particular camera wasn't too bright. In his defence, Richard didn't have a choice in the matter. It was his only camera with the light sensitivity to keep up with his quarry. Dempsey had had the foresight to bring this old, obsolete camera as well as his digital one. He had dropped the newer model last year and it only really worked in perfect lighting now.
Dempsey didn't care for his newer model. He loved the old one and was glad to use it.
What luck! The four of them stood there, all with their arms limp to their sides, talking. There was something off about all of it, but Dempsey couldn't put his finger on what was wrong. Regardless, he started clicking away, taking picture after picture.
Maybe I should get out of the car, get a bit closer to these four chaps, Dempsey thought. He wasn't sure he’d got a clear picture of them and couldn't check on his antiquated camera.
There was something peculiar about these men. Meeting at such an odd place had to mean something and he wanted to find out what. Uncharacteristic feelings of pride and the sheer will to succeed propelled him forward, past any doubts he had. For the first time in his life, he felt elated about making an effort. He was going to earn his fee and no mistake. He'd show them! He would take the best photographs any private investigator had ever taken. He'd get to the bottom of this and he'd weave a story for the world to eat up with his pictures. Raising detecting to an art: Richard Dempsey, PI. He could picture it already: his name on a door, his office, the dame that wanders in with her desperate story.
Richard snuck out of the car. Quietly. Like a professional. Or he would have if he hadn't gotten his coat stuck behind his seat-belt, making a rattling sound as metal hit metal. “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath before smoothly walking away from the car, looking at the four gentlemen out the corner of his eye. They still hadn’t noticed him and kept their dispassionate conversation going. “Excellent,” Richard Dempsey thought with relief. For a moment he had almost messed things up again, like so many times in the past.
Perhaps he was not cut out to be the best detective in the world after all. Becoming a passable one would still be an achievement, surely.
And so Dempsey goaded himself towards the four men, lonely on that forlorn beach, whipping himself with self-doubt and memories of events the rest of world had forgotten.
In the dimming light he could sneak up on them and take pictures from atop a dune. The remaining light as the sun set would outline their figures perfectly.
And that's what he did. He passed them from a safe distance, made sure they did not have line of sight and then changed direction towards them, sneaking up the dune. The sand gave way under his bulk as he ploughed through. Richard debated crawling the last few metres. He went with silently creeping instead. Pulling his massive carcass through the sand would make more noise and the light was receding; he didn’t want to miss this opportunity. These four mysterious businessmen would surely not stick around much longer.
For the fat man, this stealthy approach was an exertion. Sweat leaked from his forehead and armpits. Embarrassed even though no one watched him, he soldiered on.
He managed to get on top of the dune, where he silently lay down, sizing up his prey. He had a perfect sight of all four of them now. He shot a few beautiful pictures as he took a closer look. All four wore nearly identical suits. All four had the same back-combed hair and sharp chins. They were so similar, if not for mild differences, they would have looked identical. Slight details set them apart: their ties perhaps, or their choice of cufflinks. The interchangeable men seemed to have stepped out of the same mould, merely swapping minor accessories, not unlike toy figures.
Kaine's pale features were coloured rose by the setting sun. His face was as emotionless now as it had been all day. Meeting his associates here had not lifted his spirits at all. In fact, all four men wore the same sour expression and as they spoke none of them moved much, if at all. Their hands didn't go into their pockets, none of them moved their arms or hands to accentuate whatever they were saying. They didn't even move their feet. Instead, they just stood there.
If it had been one of them, he would have stood out as especially wooden and peculiar. Noticing the odd mannerisms in all four of them was perplexing. On top of which, it was getting dark now.
Their mouths opened and shut, barely moving their lips as they conversed. As one spoke, the others listened. They did not interrupt each other. Nor did they smile or react to what was being said.
What on earth were those weirdos talking about? Perhaps they barely moved as a form of posturing, like poker players. Was this how wealthy people conversed in private? It had to be some sort of shady deal. If only he had one of those listening devices they used in the movies. Maybe he'd use the money he got from this job to buy one. Well, partially. He had other expenses. Perhaps he'd buy it if it wasn't too costly. He'd need one were he to become a true detective worth his salt.
Straining, Richard tried to make out what they were saying. With the sea so close, he couldn't make out much. His mind wandered as he took in the sea.
As the sun sank further, the natural light coloured the dunes and sea in reds and dark blues. Far on the horizon, the city leaked its false paint into the otherwise gorgeous vista. Vile neons and dead TL lighting were like children trying to get noticed compared to the imperious sun. whose large brush strokes painted the blocks of stone, wood and cemented metal. The human effort paled in comparison, wearing its defeat with petulant and ignorant defiance.
~
With a whirring sound the camera made it known to the world it was out of film. Dempsey woke from his reveries with a start, his heart pounding. Did they notice? Did they hear? How would he explain his presence and the camera to these four sinister characters?
Why anyone would entrust him with a sensitive matter such as this was beyond him. The idea he could be in real danger had not entered his mind until this very moment.
Thankfully, they hadn’t noticed.
He'd have to change the film if he wanted to take more pictures. He gulped for air and silently changed it, which turned out to be tricky, planted on his belly on top of a dune, the light receding and him sinking in the loose sand. He got dirt on his used film and cursed out loud, regretting it immediately. He had to stay quiet, damn it! He blew the sand off, fidgeted with his camera and messed about with the old film. Getting it into the plastic container wasn't working out as intended.
Dempsey noticed his hands were shaking as he put the film into the camera. At last, the camera whirred contently as it sucked in the new film. He came prepared for this, holding it close to his chest: the noise barely made it out. Richard himself certainly didn't discern the device over his heart's distressed cadence.
After what seemed like forever, he rose his head above the top of the dune, hopeful the men hadn’t noticed his fidgeting and moving. They hadn't. They’d moved off, closer to the sea. Squinting, Dempsey realised the four men stood with their feet firmly in the water.
In a row, facing the sinking sun, standing at the edge of the sea, as the waves wet their pantaloons. The four dark shapes stood out from the lit-up sea. Their shadows danced and faded, clawing towards the dune Dempsey was on. The setting sun painted the sea dark red and all else sunk in darkness. There was no artificial light here, even if they were only hours away from the city, somehow this beach was a deserted place, untouched by human traffic and trash.
The phoney light of the Metropolis never looked more appealing, twinkling in the distance.
Dempsey quickly shot off more pictures of these four bizarre men. In his excitement he noticed his heart thumping loudly in his ears.
All four of them stepped forward two strides in perfect, robotic unison. The sea rose and fell. Dismayed, Dempsey stopped taking photos. What on earth was going on? On top of his dune, he gawked in bewilderment at the four strangest men he'd ever seen.
Events had passed the point where things were odd. This was no longer amusing. Dempsey took a few more shots and debated feverishly if he should call it a night. He did not understand what was happening but it felt off to a degree he would never have imagined. Dempsey was more experienced than he gave himself credit for. He had seen humankind at its worst, many times over. Yet this scene, these men, awoke in him a fear and loathing he was unfamiliar with. Whatever it was they were doing, he got it on camera.
With a sense of foreboding, Dempsey decided it was time to go. Whatever came next, it wouldn't be anything pleasant. Not with these four freaks. This was not some game. These were not some lads having a few too many and a laugh. They stood there, up to their ankles in sea water. Perfectly calm like before when they were having a conversation. Their serious manner made them all the more unnerving. Besides, the light was almost gone. The next pictures would be rubbish anyway.
Yet again, the frightened coward stayed put, despite his craven heart. With grim determination he did not abandon his post. Instead, he chose to stay and face whatever this was. These men were hiding something foul, something evil and Dempsey would bring it to light!
They were up to their knees in the water now, still barely moving. One of them stepped forward. In the dimming light, Dempsey couldn't tell for sure, but somehow knew that it was Kaine who was walking forward deeper into the water, primus inter pares, first among his equals, until he was waist-deep in the water. The sea smacked all four men from all sides but they stood tall and unaffected, like pillars of stone.
The authority of Kaine stood firm, undaunted by the sea as it flowed away from him in hasty retreat after each attempt to topple him failed. His clothes moved with the ebb and flow, but he himself seemed unmoved by the incessant flow of water.
Richard's fear rose to a new peak as he became aware of a clicking sound he could just barely make out above the sound of the sea. As Dempsey listened more closely, he distinguished a rasping that cut off with wet, gurgling snaps. An angry voice that rose in pitch and volume. Kaine… His unearthly screeching became louder and louder. Dempsey could clearly make it out now that he knew what to listen for.
A scream blasted through the wind and noise of the sea. As the light of the sun finally faded, Kaine's howl broke off in a sudden, ecstatic note. All four men were almost gone, merging into the darkness that lay in front of Dempsey.
Suddenly, the four men turned and their gaze fell straight on Dempsey.
Richard could tell they were looking at him because their eyes lit up a hungry yellow, brazen as the sun and the sea. That yellow sheen outlined their passive faces, made all the more gaunt and rubbery by the stark contrast with those glowing, ravenous eyes.
Kaine commanded his fellows with a single, vicious bark, sending them to Dempsey with one pointing finger. They crouched down low, becoming all but invisible amidst the waves on that sunless beach. In the darkness it appeared as if they hopped and leaped out of the sea and up the dune on all fours, three sets of fiery, glowing eyes darting towards Dempsey, silent as they approached at a terrible pace.
~
“They wore glasses”, Dempsey told himself as he turned and stumbled down the dune before running faster than he’d ever run in his life. They wore glasses and those caught the light, he thought. They wore glasses, must have been glasses. Must have been. Dempsey ran for all he was worth, his mind numb, repeating the same line over and over to himself. In the furthest depths of his rattled mind he was impressed with the speed he mustered, the wind ringing in his ears, sand propelled in all directions.
“They wore glasses,” Dempsey pleaded out loud as he reached his car, opened the door and turned the key in the ignition. As he raced off, he blubbered it again to himself: “They wore glasses.”
Except they moved like animals. Worse than animals.
Except they hadn't worn glasses, no matter how often he repeated it to himself, any of them. He’d had plenty of time to see these men and none of them wore glasses, nor was there any light that could reflect in those non-existent glasses. Dempsey raced home, distancing himself from those four men, those things, but not from the fear that had a firm grip on his poor, struggling heart.
Read the rest in 'Four Men and the Sea'. You can purchase it here https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07C94JZDY. Thanks for the support.
June 4, 2018
Stolen Time
A Day of Bleating
Thought,
day by day,
to strangle
the impulse
the rage
the animal.
And when old and terrified and
alone
and when that old dog whines
outside, beneath every door,
left unopened,
does the child scream for his mother?
---------------------------------------------
True terror
I think
is when
no stories
frighten any longer
when
cosmic horror
and
1984
and
WOII
etc
are
a
gassy
encumbrance
that can't outlive a cup of tea.
When the machine of war
is
literally
shredding babes into mulch
and any mention
is considered
hopelessly out of touch.
---------------------------------------------
A mind bleached white
is a thing of pristine pride
and horrid silence.
---------------------------------------------
The angel sings
of fire and ash
His voice raised
too loud and rash
Bring flame to the monkeys
and set ablaze
they will
the world
But
the lord's will is law
and his ire
eternal
The angel sings
in agony made of glass
his fall down
a smear on the overpass
---------------------------------------------
Life is not sacred.
Until we thirst for meaning,
water is just wet.
---------------------------------------------
Wandering
Now that I am
a man,
can I spin a tale
to bring light to these eyes?
Much rather,
oh,
fly away with you
if you would listen
to my song
and dance
but you wont
and I
pretend to smile
until
it is done
and to no one in particular
I say
I died
that is all
---------------------------------------------
Once she came into frame,
all was as it should have been
until she was gone.
---------------------------------------------
Words are just that
She saw as I looked away
Another man in her hand
A circuit short
and I ducked
behind that greasy old way
somehow
harder
each day
to run
't Was fear, nay, worse than that
I'll make it up to her someday
I said
because I knew
my knees would hit the dirt
in front of
her.
One day.
till the road did that instead
Quick
what rhymes with bus
sounds like fall
and hits like stone
Tell me the one
poem
that will melt the heart
of demons
and gods
and opens the doors
to tar
tar
rus.
Now I look at those
miles
with fresh hatred
and a new found
silence.
---------------------------------------------
I try to calm her
as she wags her tail
the lady in heat
She thrusts and
begs
the window stays closed
I'm her jailer
she's my pet
she yearns for a man
to show her the bed.
---------------------------------------------
She came apart
in my hands
as memories are want to do
when held too tight.
So I now clutch
and squeeze
this dried old heart
to pour out words
and share
with a world
that doesn't kill
when it swallows.
---------------------------------------------
With dirty crayon
you told the walls
how much
you hated me.
Almost we killed
each other
like we did
the past.
I ran away
from the needles
but not enough
to last.
We drowned
the future
every day with
latency.
---------------------------------------------
Looking in the mirror
the younger self smirking back
He knew what was up
He knew what was down
There would be a woman
and she would stay to keep
There would be pain
but friends and beer and sleep.
Wars would not end
yet he would fight no less
Running is for losers
and lovin' a dirty mess.
Looking in the mirror
the younger self no more
He knew what was down
He knew what was up
---------------------------------------------
They called him Ragman,
raggedy raggedy Rad.
I chewed that bleat
crazy lazy frothing mad
Deep deep
in the dark dark
forest
where nothing ever happened
until it did
stabbing the murk
with the last of hope
They shattered
slow
White skin
broke
Wicked smiles
melted
Wretched arms
fell
Cackling eyes
no more
and to dust those boys
back to hell
became relief
murder perhaps, but
for a narrow escape
and I smiled,
a thoughtless instant
'till a scream
pierced
his heart
She stood too close
to the crystal made whole
Just like those toys,
made of broken petals.
---------------------------------------------
The Absolute Explodyness of it all
was rather high for a lazy day of golf.
---------------------------------------------
The morning coffee,
in all its black glory,
interrupted,
as a moniker of man
the black goat with
its red eyes and calm demeanour
had bought us years ago
with a foolish moment
of bravery.
Smiling,
it calmly lays
a perfect spread
of
a winning hand.
Could have done so earlier,
I suppose.
I think I saw a glint of sadness
in its left
paw
The early gazette
fell to the floor,
discarded,
the city rang and
danced
in single-minded
recognition
of
Monday
Morning
Angst.
---------------------------------------------
IF life were a poem
and I the poet
I would shake that shit
upside down
and laugh
oh
I would cackle
as men in business suits
and their briefcases
fell
out of the metropolis.
No more politics
or war
No more maths
or pain
Fuck cancer too.
I would find a way
to once and for all
do away
with Monday,
Tuesday,
hell, the whole nine yards,
except Friday night and
a smidgen of weekend.
No more you, you
and fuck you too.
More dancing
less fart
Of course
sacrifices must
be made
life needs to end
as all things must.
Except
Cats, coffee,
pizza
perhaps
you would be there too?
---------------------------------------------
Close the blinds
Lock the door
For god sake
turn that phone off
the hook
Turn off
the lights
the computer
the life line to the real world
keep it off
let it simmer
Don't read
Don't masturbate
Just be
That hollow sound
that rumbling
piercing
hate
That creative
howl that feat
That scared and bored and lonely thing
that's who you really are.
---------------------------------------------
Good Morning Jerusalem
I understand
believe me you
I do
But know this
All must wane
and
soldiers
eat
and when you fire that hate
the end will be
a flattened Jewish State
---------------------------------------------
The Poem to end all Poems
I write for selfish reasons,
to fan the heat of flame to
reddened cheeks
your feet restless
bring fire to screaming hips
those eyes full of shimmer
again
hope for a land that lies
beyond lust
A tiny gasp
when I pull
your lips
close
to melt the loins of any woman
but let us be frank,
't is you I want
and none other.
---------------------------------------------
Burn the bridges.
Pull the trebuchet down.
Leave the oil and soup on their fire.
Take off your armour
and leather straps
and shoes.
Throw away your spears, knives,
short spikes and ball and chain.
Let the horses go free.
Release the little cattle that lives:
they too have earned their freedom.
Tear down the tents and
revel
in the knowledge
you won't have to wake up to the legs
of a million black flies
on those walls
ever again.
Throw it all on one big pyre.
Abandon the siege.
The war is lost.
Walk away from
your brethren
with your head low
and feet naked.
---------------------------------------------
The dreaded orange, black and grey
of smoke
over cityscape
we forgot all about
as we ate
drove
worked
shouted
stumbled
fell
cried
and
loved
That rising blooming
end.
---------------------------------------------
A T-shirt
covered
in crimson
brown.
You'd think
people would
still
and
ask
worry
wonder
The mother pulled her
spawn
closer
The lady clasped her
purse
The ride home
a staggering
revelation.
---------------------------------------------
The colour of cowardice
The Man
on the bridge
was
passed
by countless onlookers
but not
the flies.
---------------------------------------------
Rhiannon Needs To Focus
A Poem made into
a tool
To coerce, ply, force
a certain
fool.
No more GIFS
for you.
Now go as the monkey
DO.
---------------------------------------------
Poem of Poison
Skitter, titter, heave
close
crawl away keep
low
don't
look
A hunting band
of
teeth and
worse
armed with
brass hate
Hissing, snapping near
Those muddy
trenches
won't
hold
Gnashing, squealing, digging
voices
echoing in the vast
of
hidey holes
inside.
---------------------------------------------
Clementine
All things must end
bleeds through all thought
comfortable despair
called wisdom to a broken
dirty
lonely
reflecting shatter-shard.
Better that way.
Better still
All we need to do is wait.
I say
happily
I count my fingers
among the dead.
The fierce lioness
licks her paw and
shows
a forgotten kindness
to a pale, writhing
thing
from down deep
the spell is cast
Her voice is sweet silver
scathing
to an ancient itch
The song
wakes
picked up by hoarse voices
and drums
and battered ram.
Arms
stir
clasping broken sword
hatchet
pike and pole
battered shields
and
faded banner
Brittle Bones
in a dreary dance
feet stamp
toothy grins
around
a pyre
of old
For better or much
much
worse
the band of the beast
strides forth
out of the dreary swamp
The long march
back to life
as wind howls
through
tattered rags
Torch-lit glow
and glint
horned helm
muddy boots
dusty fur
and
bloodthirst all,
to wage siege,
as the vanguard
of life
once more
---------------------------------------------
The gates have opened
and angels fly
free.
---------------------------------------------
If by chance you missed it that day
The sun was shining but kinda lazy
We met at the bus and got ready to hunt
His eyes were dull, mine kinda crazy.
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
If by chance you missed it that day
our childish dreams had now crashed
and the burnt out husk of friends
limped towards a smirking lad (of old)
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
If by chance you missed it that day
wasn't hard, 't was just any day
we traced her blood to his door
and trembling, trembling no more
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
---------------------------------------------
Why embark
into that desert
knowing
I'll
never
reach
the other side
knowing
how camels keel
how sand willows
waits
and dies
knowing
the scorpion stings
mates
and dies
knowing
how love tastes
wilts
and tries.
---------------------------------------------
Odyssey
Are it
these sharp talons
of mine
that keep you distant?
I've tried to cut them
shed them
hide
People, dog turds and
red traffic light
Mundane life weighs
The clock and
its hooks
sunk deep like barbed wire
All I can say
in my defence,
I would try again
for you.
---------------------------------------------
Hel
Been around
Have the scars to prove it, too
Stabbed, burned, eaten alive.
Just another empty coffee cup
at your feet as you go shopping
for the new Louis Vuitton handbag and nail polish and
corned beef
for your beloved
who hates your uncomfortable shoes more than you
---------------------------------------------
Charley was stabbed in his big fat guts his big fat guts.
Charley was stabbed in his big fat guts his big fat guts.
Charley was stabbed in his bag fat guts and then pushed out of the window.
---------------------------------------------
The Wraith
In his eyes
desert storm
lightning
and cold
cold winter,
circling her
like
a strangling vine
thirsting for
the sun.
In blind majesty
she skips
and frolics,
in aggravating bliss,
scorching
what may be
the remainder
keeping him
a man.
From shadows
it
watches and waits,
always in fire,
ready to unleash
on those
who would
do
harm,
until she too
perishes
in
his mind
and
what remains
is
a shallow
puddle
of time,
hunger
and cold
cold
hate.
---------------------------------------------
Struck and bleeding #blind
the bard lost his bearings
and dropped his ailing mind.
Bring me a woman,
he shouted,
or better yet, some ale.
But the jester was left to rot
as the court was molested
and everyone murdered on the spot.
---------------------------------------------
And when
our children's children's child
looks back
what will it see
but the spineless warblings
of our
panicked twitter plead.
known only as
the Apocalypse Feed
---------------------------------------------
I shudder to #recall
the childish dark of
the punishing basement
and the taste of lemon
slices
whenever
my granny
caught me
leering
like
daddy would.
---------------------------------------------
Walking with my lover's kiss,
tasting like a night's lament.
Ash and beer and a final piss
underneath the City of cement
lies an older ruin still
made of memories and stone
Dig deeper, if you will
and bring up nought but bone.
---------------------------------------------
For it to be a cycle,
it should not have a beginning,
nor an end.
This is
a non linear
causal
state
that
will last
until it's run its course.
For it to end,
all must cease
without
promise
of
renewal.
For it to begin
all I need
is you.
---------------------------------------------
Awful WIPs. Please do not read.
Perfect Day
#Bare feet rustle through dry leaves
and kick up
twigs
and
empty candy wrappers
as I run
down the hill
to say hi.
You smile back.
The sun is shining.
-----------------------------------------------------
What swims behind those eyes?
If I go too deep in that monsoon glow
I think I might drown
but you should know
that wont stop me:
it's this or perish
at the bottom of the sea
-----------------------------------------
I don't even care
if at the end of the day
she hates my guts.
That's why I sing this song now
before it's too late
and you
just forget.
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
I don't compromise
unless I have to
and
I think maybe I should
this time around.
That's why I sing this song now
before it's too late
and you
walk away.
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
Tomorrow I could be dead
and worse,
so could you
That's why I sing this song now
before it's too late
and you 're
just gone.
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
-----------------------------------------
Hung high from branches dry
the village now softly baked
in a parching, violet sun.
And yet
I cling
Children's glistening eyes,
yesterdays miseries f'rever caught,
dangling from orange rope.
And yet
I cling
How many civilisations must we bury
before we can have one that understands
it too must end?
And yet
I cling
Love must never be
a monologue, the withered witch whispered,
cackling as she ran.
And yet
I cling
-----------------------------------------
Poem For Passion
For aeons do I wander still,
lose my way and fall,
pushed ever on by darker will,
by your dire siren's call.
I will return, for your eyes alone
on that frayed flowerbed;
A fractured farewell for which I must atone
a deeper crimson rhyme of red.
It could only ever be ours,
your smile in the sky and in the sea
We belong to these flowers,
they wait for a kiss and you and me.
--------------------------------------------
The Wraith
In his eyes
desert storm
lightning
and cold
cold winter,
circling her
like
a strangling vine
thirsting for
the sun.
In blind majesty
she skips
and frolics,
in aggravating bliss,
scorching
what may be
the remainder
keeping him
a man.
From shadows
it
watches and waits,
always in fire,
ready to unleash
on those
who would
do
harm,
until she too
perishes
in
his mind
and
what remains
is
a shallow
puddle
of
hunger
and cold
cold
time.
--------------------------------------------
Jawe in Vietnam
I lost my toe
in the war.
I just had it
but you know how it goes.
You put it down for a second
and
a moment of distraction later
caused by
shell or grenade
and
dang it
You left it in the kitchen.
Now, you should know.
I'll never set
another foot
in that kitchen.
A matter of principal, if you will.
--------------------------------------------
Annick
With one n or two
Yes, I lost my favourite head.
Lost, It is lost.
It had a little hat
and it was a little worn down
the head,
not the hat.
What else? Black hair, or maybe brown?
And eyes of silver-grey-blue white
and thick smears of brows
and a beautiful smile.
Sometimes, I think
she must still love me,
remember, at least,
then I recall
and
most of all
I can be pretty crazy.
--------------------------------------------
Photo Fuck
The appeal of photos
eludes me
--------------------------------------------
The Tyrant came home
and
with him
a thunderous silence swept from
room to room
across his children and their toys
the baby in its crib
the potatoes on the fire
and his woman too.
The dim children forgot
The baby was hungry
The potatoes boiled flat
and his woman too.
--------------------------------------------
The Wraith
In his eyes
desert storm
lightning
and cold
cold winter,
circling her
like
a strangling vine
thirsting for
the sun.
In blind majesty
she skips
and frolics,
in aggravating bliss,
scorching
what may be
the remainder
keeping him
a man.
--------------------------------------------
The old man
waits for
the nemesis
to rise
again.
They
greet
like old friends
'fore
the hatchet
falls.
--------------------------------------------
The thing had a face
fair and
a way of soothing
warm and
a kiss and embrace
that made you feel
light.
--------------------------------------------
Led into the arena
met with a thousand hollering hoots
not at them
nor for
The end lay in wait
centre stage
a gaping maw
and tentacles
a plenty
Yet they howled and ran
head held high.
--------------------------------------------
No matter how often you scritch that scratch,
when the demonic egg stirs
your time is leaking.
As it hatches,
tell the world. Howl. Scream. Beg.
And watch.
There is peace to be found
in bitter, craven spit.
--------------------------------------------
Purple sheen on her wrist,
her father in black ink.
Would that I had met him
and told him everything.
Everything.
--------------------------------------------
The L word
is there a more tacky thing to utter?
Yet the lure of spouting that simple thing
is so very tempting.
As if
four letters
could ever hold all there is
to come.
Hope is such a sweet serrated blade
and if wielded by a madman with
the will to risk it all,
a potent promise
a humble bow
and a smile on these lips.
--------------------------------------------
Raising hell and back
trying to reach the other
falling back again
Don't let it keep you down.
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
Thought,
day by day,
to strangle
the impulse
the rage
the animal.
And when old and terrified and
alone
and when that old dog whines
outside, beneath every door,
left unopened,
does the child scream for his mother?
---------------------------------------------
True terror
I think
is when
no stories
frighten any longer
when
cosmic horror
and
1984
and
WOII
etc
are
a
gassy
encumbrance
that can't outlive a cup of tea.
When the machine of war
is
literally
shredding babes into mulch
and any mention
is considered
hopelessly out of touch.
---------------------------------------------
A mind bleached white
is a thing of pristine pride
and horrid silence.
---------------------------------------------
The angel sings
of fire and ash
His voice raised
too loud and rash
Bring flame to the monkeys
and set ablaze
they will
the world
But
the lord's will is law
and his ire
eternal
The angel sings
in agony made of glass
his fall down
a smear on the overpass
---------------------------------------------
Life is not sacred.
Until we thirst for meaning,
water is just wet.
---------------------------------------------
Wandering
Now that I am
a man,
can I spin a tale
to bring light to these eyes?
Much rather,
oh,
fly away with you
if you would listen
to my song
and dance
but you wont
and I
pretend to smile
until
it is done
and to no one in particular
I say
I died
that is all
---------------------------------------------
Once she came into frame,
all was as it should have been
until she was gone.
---------------------------------------------
Words are just that
She saw as I looked away
Another man in her hand
A circuit short
and I ducked
behind that greasy old way
somehow
harder
each day
to run
't Was fear, nay, worse than that
I'll make it up to her someday
I said
because I knew
my knees would hit the dirt
in front of
her.
One day.
till the road did that instead
Quick
what rhymes with bus
sounds like fall
and hits like stone
Tell me the one
poem
that will melt the heart
of demons
and gods
and opens the doors
to tar
tar
rus.
Now I look at those
miles
with fresh hatred
and a new found
silence.
---------------------------------------------
I try to calm her
as she wags her tail
the lady in heat
She thrusts and
begs
the window stays closed
I'm her jailer
she's my pet
she yearns for a man
to show her the bed.
---------------------------------------------
She came apart
in my hands
as memories are want to do
when held too tight.
So I now clutch
and squeeze
this dried old heart
to pour out words
and share
with a world
that doesn't kill
when it swallows.
---------------------------------------------
With dirty crayon
you told the walls
how much
you hated me.
Almost we killed
each other
like we did
the past.
I ran away
from the needles
but not enough
to last.
We drowned
the future
every day with
latency.
---------------------------------------------
Looking in the mirror
the younger self smirking back
He knew what was up
He knew what was down
There would be a woman
and she would stay to keep
There would be pain
but friends and beer and sleep.
Wars would not end
yet he would fight no less
Running is for losers
and lovin' a dirty mess.
Looking in the mirror
the younger self no more
He knew what was down
He knew what was up
---------------------------------------------
They called him Ragman,
raggedy raggedy Rad.
I chewed that bleat
crazy lazy frothing mad
Deep deep
in the dark dark
forest
where nothing ever happened
until it did
stabbing the murk
with the last of hope
They shattered
slow
White skin
broke
Wicked smiles
melted
Wretched arms
fell
Cackling eyes
no more
and to dust those boys
back to hell
became relief
murder perhaps, but
for a narrow escape
and I smiled,
a thoughtless instant
'till a scream
pierced
his heart
She stood too close
to the crystal made whole
Just like those toys,
made of broken petals.
---------------------------------------------
The Absolute Explodyness of it all
was rather high for a lazy day of golf.
---------------------------------------------
The morning coffee,
in all its black glory,
interrupted,
as a moniker of man
the black goat with
its red eyes and calm demeanour
had bought us years ago
with a foolish moment
of bravery.
Smiling,
it calmly lays
a perfect spread
of
a winning hand.
Could have done so earlier,
I suppose.
I think I saw a glint of sadness
in its left
paw
The early gazette
fell to the floor,
discarded,
the city rang and
danced
in single-minded
recognition
of
Monday
Morning
Angst.
---------------------------------------------
IF life were a poem
and I the poet
I would shake that shit
upside down
and laugh
oh
I would cackle
as men in business suits
and their briefcases
fell
out of the metropolis.
No more politics
or war
No more maths
or pain
Fuck cancer too.
I would find a way
to once and for all
do away
with Monday,
Tuesday,
hell, the whole nine yards,
except Friday night and
a smidgen of weekend.
No more you, you
and fuck you too.
More dancing
less fart
Of course
sacrifices must
be made
life needs to end
as all things must.
Except
Cats, coffee,
pizza
perhaps
you would be there too?
---------------------------------------------
Close the blinds
Lock the door
For god sake
turn that phone off
the hook
Turn off
the lights
the computer
the life line to the real world
keep it off
let it simmer
Don't read
Don't masturbate
Just be
That hollow sound
that rumbling
piercing
hate
That creative
howl that feat
That scared and bored and lonely thing
that's who you really are.
---------------------------------------------
Good Morning Jerusalem
I understand
believe me you
I do
But know this
All must wane
and
soldiers
eat
and when you fire that hate
the end will be
a flattened Jewish State
---------------------------------------------
The Poem to end all Poems
I write for selfish reasons,
to fan the heat of flame to
reddened cheeks
your feet restless
bring fire to screaming hips
those eyes full of shimmer
again
hope for a land that lies
beyond lust
A tiny gasp
when I pull
your lips
close
to melt the loins of any woman
but let us be frank,
't is you I want
and none other.
---------------------------------------------
Burn the bridges.
Pull the trebuchet down.
Leave the oil and soup on their fire.
Take off your armour
and leather straps
and shoes.
Throw away your spears, knives,
short spikes and ball and chain.
Let the horses go free.
Release the little cattle that lives:
they too have earned their freedom.
Tear down the tents and
revel
in the knowledge
you won't have to wake up to the legs
of a million black flies
on those walls
ever again.
Throw it all on one big pyre.
Abandon the siege.
The war is lost.
Walk away from
your brethren
with your head low
and feet naked.
---------------------------------------------
The dreaded orange, black and grey
of smoke
over cityscape
we forgot all about
as we ate
drove
worked
shouted
stumbled
fell
cried
and
loved
That rising blooming
end.
---------------------------------------------
A T-shirt
covered
in crimson
brown.
You'd think
people would
still
and
ask
worry
wonder
The mother pulled her
spawn
closer
The lady clasped her
purse
The ride home
a staggering
revelation.
---------------------------------------------
The colour of cowardice
The Man
on the bridge
was
passed
by countless onlookers
but not
the flies.
---------------------------------------------
Rhiannon Needs To Focus
A Poem made into
a tool
To coerce, ply, force
a certain
fool.
No more GIFS
for you.
Now go as the monkey
DO.
---------------------------------------------
Poem of Poison
Skitter, titter, heave
close
crawl away keep
low
don't
look
A hunting band
of
teeth and
worse
armed with
brass hate
Hissing, snapping near
Those muddy
trenches
won't
hold
Gnashing, squealing, digging
voices
echoing in the vast
of
hidey holes
inside.
---------------------------------------------
Clementine
All things must end
bleeds through all thought
comfortable despair
called wisdom to a broken
dirty
lonely
reflecting shatter-shard.
Better that way.
Better still
All we need to do is wait.
I say
happily
I count my fingers
among the dead.
The fierce lioness
licks her paw and
shows
a forgotten kindness
to a pale, writhing
thing
from down deep
the spell is cast
Her voice is sweet silver
scathing
to an ancient itch
The song
wakes
picked up by hoarse voices
and drums
and battered ram.
Arms
stir
clasping broken sword
hatchet
pike and pole
battered shields
and
faded banner
Brittle Bones
in a dreary dance
feet stamp
toothy grins
around
a pyre
of old
For better or much
much
worse
the band of the beast
strides forth
out of the dreary swamp
The long march
back to life
as wind howls
through
tattered rags
Torch-lit glow
and glint
horned helm
muddy boots
dusty fur
and
bloodthirst all,
to wage siege,
as the vanguard
of life
once more
---------------------------------------------
The gates have opened
and angels fly
free.
---------------------------------------------
If by chance you missed it that day
The sun was shining but kinda lazy
We met at the bus and got ready to hunt
His eyes were dull, mine kinda crazy.
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
If by chance you missed it that day
our childish dreams had now crashed
and the burnt out husk of friends
limped towards a smirking lad (of old)
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
If by chance you missed it that day
wasn't hard, 't was just any day
we traced her blood to his door
and trembling, trembling no more
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
Shicker shake shake
Shicker shake shake
stabbing 's not easy
---------------------------------------------
Why embark
into that desert
knowing
I'll
never
reach
the other side
knowing
how camels keel
how sand willows
waits
and dies
knowing
the scorpion stings
mates
and dies
knowing
how love tastes
wilts
and tries.
---------------------------------------------
Odyssey
Are it
these sharp talons
of mine
that keep you distant?
I've tried to cut them
shed them
hide
People, dog turds and
red traffic light
Mundane life weighs
The clock and
its hooks
sunk deep like barbed wire
All I can say
in my defence,
I would try again
for you.
---------------------------------------------
Hel
Been around
Have the scars to prove it, too
Stabbed, burned, eaten alive.
Just another empty coffee cup
at your feet as you go shopping
for the new Louis Vuitton handbag and nail polish and
corned beef
for your beloved
who hates your uncomfortable shoes more than you
---------------------------------------------
Charley was stabbed in his big fat guts his big fat guts.
Charley was stabbed in his big fat guts his big fat guts.
Charley was stabbed in his bag fat guts and then pushed out of the window.
---------------------------------------------
The Wraith
In his eyes
desert storm
lightning
and cold
cold winter,
circling her
like
a strangling vine
thirsting for
the sun.
In blind majesty
she skips
and frolics,
in aggravating bliss,
scorching
what may be
the remainder
keeping him
a man.
From shadows
it
watches and waits,
always in fire,
ready to unleash
on those
who would
do
harm,
until she too
perishes
in
his mind
and
what remains
is
a shallow
puddle
of time,
hunger
and cold
cold
hate.
---------------------------------------------
Struck and bleeding #blind
the bard lost his bearings
and dropped his ailing mind.
Bring me a woman,
he shouted,
or better yet, some ale.
But the jester was left to rot
as the court was molested
and everyone murdered on the spot.
---------------------------------------------
And when
our children's children's child
looks back
what will it see
but the spineless warblings
of our
panicked twitter plead.
known only as
the Apocalypse Feed
---------------------------------------------
I shudder to #recall
the childish dark of
the punishing basement
and the taste of lemon
slices
whenever
my granny
caught me
leering
like
daddy would.
---------------------------------------------
Walking with my lover's kiss,
tasting like a night's lament.
Ash and beer and a final piss
underneath the City of cement
lies an older ruin still
made of memories and stone
Dig deeper, if you will
and bring up nought but bone.
---------------------------------------------
For it to be a cycle,
it should not have a beginning,
nor an end.
This is
a non linear
causal
state
that
will last
until it's run its course.
For it to end,
all must cease
without
promise
of
renewal.
For it to begin
all I need
is you.
---------------------------------------------
Awful WIPs. Please do not read.
Perfect Day
#Bare feet rustle through dry leaves
and kick up
twigs
and
empty candy wrappers
as I run
down the hill
to say hi.
You smile back.
The sun is shining.
-----------------------------------------------------
What swims behind those eyes?
If I go too deep in that monsoon glow
I think I might drown
but you should know
that wont stop me:
it's this or perish
at the bottom of the sea
-----------------------------------------
I don't even care
if at the end of the day
she hates my guts.
That's why I sing this song now
before it's too late
and you
just forget.
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
I don't compromise
unless I have to
and
I think maybe I should
this time around.
That's why I sing this song now
before it's too late
and you
walk away.
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
Tomorrow I could be dead
and worse,
so could you
That's why I sing this song now
before it's too late
and you 're
just gone.
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you,
Baby, I kinda dig you, a lot
-----------------------------------------
Hung high from branches dry
the village now softly baked
in a parching, violet sun.
And yet
I cling
Children's glistening eyes,
yesterdays miseries f'rever caught,
dangling from orange rope.
And yet
I cling
How many civilisations must we bury
before we can have one that understands
it too must end?
And yet
I cling
Love must never be
a monologue, the withered witch whispered,
cackling as she ran.
And yet
I cling
-----------------------------------------
Poem For Passion
For aeons do I wander still,
lose my way and fall,
pushed ever on by darker will,
by your dire siren's call.
I will return, for your eyes alone
on that frayed flowerbed;
A fractured farewell for which I must atone
a deeper crimson rhyme of red.
It could only ever be ours,
your smile in the sky and in the sea
We belong to these flowers,
they wait for a kiss and you and me.
--------------------------------------------
The Wraith
In his eyes
desert storm
lightning
and cold
cold winter,
circling her
like
a strangling vine
thirsting for
the sun.
In blind majesty
she skips
and frolics,
in aggravating bliss,
scorching
what may be
the remainder
keeping him
a man.
From shadows
it
watches and waits,
always in fire,
ready to unleash
on those
who would
do
harm,
until she too
perishes
in
his mind
and
what remains
is
a shallow
puddle
of
hunger
and cold
cold
time.
--------------------------------------------
Jawe in Vietnam
I lost my toe
in the war.
I just had it
but you know how it goes.
You put it down for a second
and
a moment of distraction later
caused by
shell or grenade
and
dang it
You left it in the kitchen.
Now, you should know.
I'll never set
another foot
in that kitchen.
A matter of principal, if you will.
--------------------------------------------
Annick
With one n or two
Yes, I lost my favourite head.
Lost, It is lost.
It had a little hat
and it was a little worn down
the head,
not the hat.
What else? Black hair, or maybe brown?
And eyes of silver-grey-blue white
and thick smears of brows
and a beautiful smile.
Sometimes, I think
she must still love me,
remember, at least,
then I recall
and
most of all
I can be pretty crazy.
--------------------------------------------
Photo Fuck
The appeal of photos
eludes me
--------------------------------------------
The Tyrant came home
and
with him
a thunderous silence swept from
room to room
across his children and their toys
the baby in its crib
the potatoes on the fire
and his woman too.
The dim children forgot
The baby was hungry
The potatoes boiled flat
and his woman too.
--------------------------------------------
The Wraith
In his eyes
desert storm
lightning
and cold
cold winter,
circling her
like
a strangling vine
thirsting for
the sun.
In blind majesty
she skips
and frolics,
in aggravating bliss,
scorching
what may be
the remainder
keeping him
a man.
--------------------------------------------
The old man
waits for
the nemesis
to rise
again.
They
greet
like old friends
'fore
the hatchet
falls.
--------------------------------------------
The thing had a face
fair and
a way of soothing
warm and
a kiss and embrace
that made you feel
light.
--------------------------------------------
Led into the arena
met with a thousand hollering hoots
not at them
nor for
The end lay in wait
centre stage
a gaping maw
and tentacles
a plenty
Yet they howled and ran
head held high.
--------------------------------------------
No matter how often you scritch that scratch,
when the demonic egg stirs
your time is leaking.
As it hatches,
tell the world. Howl. Scream. Beg.
And watch.
There is peace to be found
in bitter, craven spit.
--------------------------------------------
Purple sheen on her wrist,
her father in black ink.
Would that I had met him
and told him everything.
Everything.
--------------------------------------------
The L word
is there a more tacky thing to utter?
Yet the lure of spouting that simple thing
is so very tempting.
As if
four letters
could ever hold all there is
to come.
Hope is such a sweet serrated blade
and if wielded by a madman with
the will to risk it all,
a potent promise
a humble bow
and a smile on these lips.
--------------------------------------------
Raising hell and back
trying to reach the other
falling back again
Don't let it keep you down.
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
May 18, 2018
At The Hedge
Radina huffed and wheezed as she trudged through the living room. Where was that man o' hers? It was eleven past and he still had not returned for supper.
She hovered in front of her window, sighing profusely, all the while glancing at her wristwatch. Muttering. Always muttering.
Twelve past!
Thirteen past!
As she pulled back her pink curtain, she noticed he still hadn't trimmed the rhododendron bushes either. That man o' hers...
At sixteen past, she gave up and had supper by herself. Radina didn't enjoy her meal one bit. Each chew she took of her own cooking was slightly off temperature as she started eating too late herself. Each piece she worked down was met with grunts and mumbling, letting each piece of meat, coleslaw and potato know she was not content.
Jimmy was late and when Jimmy was late, Jimmy was drinking. Radina didn't like that about her husband of forty years. Well, soon he'd be home at all times so she wouldn't have to worry so.
That thought calmed her a bit. Yes, soon her Jimmy would be enjoying his pension and he could spend all his days in the comfort of their home.
For some reason, Radina couldn't forget about those darned bushes. How many times had she asked him to trim them? A hundred perhaps? She sighed and started working herself up again, but didn't bother to look at her wristwatch. Jimmy was now so late, it mattered little how much any more.
She wouldn't be mad at him. She never really could. Of course, she'd tell him off! After all, that is a ladies prerogative. He'd made her cook and wait on him, and then didn't bother to call or even show up.
Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.
Radina glanced at her watch, despite herself.
He was now forty minutes late.
Radina began to worry and when Radina worries, she fidgets. Silly goose, she thought. Of course he's all right. He was going to get it when he got home, you bet!
She cleaned supper off the table, packed her husband a meal on a plate, covered it with foil. After cleaning all the plates and pots, she went to have a sit down in the living room, staring at the window, but still... no Jimmy.
Right! That's it!
Radina marched outside and stood on the porch, arms crossed. If she could see the stern look on her own face, perhaps she would have started laughing with herself. Unfortunately, that was not the case and as seconds ticked past, she worked herself more and more into rancour... standing next to those darned rhododendrons.
"Fine,” she said. I'll do it myself, she added in thought and went to the shed with Jimmy's tools. He rarely used any of them, but he had all the latest and the best.
Radina stood there for a second, amidst all the gadgets she'd never used. Most were completely alien to her. She picked up the shears and snipped once or twice. Well, she could use those, but that would take for ever!
Aha!
Radina picked up the Bladinator 5000, the newest model chainsaw...
She hovered in front of her window, sighing profusely, all the while glancing at her wristwatch. Muttering. Always muttering.
Twelve past!
Thirteen past!
As she pulled back her pink curtain, she noticed he still hadn't trimmed the rhododendron bushes either. That man o' hers...
At sixteen past, she gave up and had supper by herself. Radina didn't enjoy her meal one bit. Each chew she took of her own cooking was slightly off temperature as she started eating too late herself. Each piece she worked down was met with grunts and mumbling, letting each piece of meat, coleslaw and potato know she was not content.
Jimmy was late and when Jimmy was late, Jimmy was drinking. Radina didn't like that about her husband of forty years. Well, soon he'd be home at all times so she wouldn't have to worry so.
That thought calmed her a bit. Yes, soon her Jimmy would be enjoying his pension and he could spend all his days in the comfort of their home.
For some reason, Radina couldn't forget about those darned bushes. How many times had she asked him to trim them? A hundred perhaps? She sighed and started working herself up again, but didn't bother to look at her wristwatch. Jimmy was now so late, it mattered little how much any more.
She wouldn't be mad at him. She never really could. Of course, she'd tell him off! After all, that is a ladies prerogative. He'd made her cook and wait on him, and then didn't bother to call or even show up.
Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.
Radina glanced at her watch, despite herself.
He was now forty minutes late.
Radina began to worry and when Radina worries, she fidgets. Silly goose, she thought. Of course he's all right. He was going to get it when he got home, you bet!
She cleaned supper off the table, packed her husband a meal on a plate, covered it with foil. After cleaning all the plates and pots, she went to have a sit down in the living room, staring at the window, but still... no Jimmy.
Right! That's it!
Radina marched outside and stood on the porch, arms crossed. If she could see the stern look on her own face, perhaps she would have started laughing with herself. Unfortunately, that was not the case and as seconds ticked past, she worked herself more and more into rancour... standing next to those darned rhododendrons.
"Fine,” she said. I'll do it myself, she added in thought and went to the shed with Jimmy's tools. He rarely used any of them, but he had all the latest and the best.
Radina stood there for a second, amidst all the gadgets she'd never used. Most were completely alien to her. She picked up the shears and snipped once or twice. Well, she could use those, but that would take for ever!
Aha!
Radina picked up the Bladinator 5000, the newest model chainsaw...
May 11, 2018
Vampire short
"Ok, so, you really are a vampire. Huh."
"Hm?"
"Well, the whole flinching thing and the fact that you've still not stepped inside..."
"That's not a thing."
"It's not?"
"Nah."
"Oh, so you could step inside, like, right now?"
"Uhm, yeah, that's right."
"But you are a vampire?"
"Yeah, kinda? I guess?"
"Oh"
"Yeah"
"So... what's that like?"
"I don't know, Pays the bills, I guess?"
"Really?"
"No."
"So, killing people and stuff, or is that just in the movies?"
"Oh, no, that's real."
"Hm?"
"Well, the whole flinching thing and the fact that you've still not stepped inside..."
"That's not a thing."
"It's not?"
"Nah."
"Oh, so you could step inside, like, right now?"
"Uhm, yeah, that's right."
"But you are a vampire?"
"Yeah, kinda? I guess?"
"Oh"
"Yeah"
"So... what's that like?"
"I don't know, Pays the bills, I guess?"
"Really?"
"No."
"So, killing people and stuff, or is that just in the movies?"
"Oh, no, that's real."
May 9, 2018
Haiku Rebel at War
A few verses put to paper. Not terribly good perhaps, but cathartic for the writer.
Once she came into frame,
all was as it should have been
until she was gone.
--------------------------------
One tries his bestest
but words are hard, so is Math
and geography.
--------------------------------
The cat mews in fear,
caught by a murder of crows
circling in the sky.
--------------------------------
Assumptions are cheap
Ash and slag and all for a flag
Watch your world crumble
--------------------------------
I write in frantic
with my hands free OMG
siri you c word
--------------------------------
A mind is boiling
the water in a puddle
now a daunting lake
--------------------------------
Don't trust the angel.
A cherub sans wings you say?
A devil, always!
--------------------------------
Boaty Mcboatface
is hard to fit in haiku
so I'm glad it's sunk.
--------------------------------
A spade is a spade.
Alone, father said no more,
stabbing the loose soil.
--------------------------------
Love can be brutal
but then so can the weather
Stay indoors and Pray.
--------------------------------
Antwerp is rank smells,
tourists, neighbours, police and
a fleeing river.
--------------------------------
We've grown apart
after I stopped chasing
and waiting for you.
--------------------------------
I called my mum
She summarised my life
and then I hung up.
--------------------------------
Twitter
In a voiceless sound
a miriad of intent
loses all meaning.
--------------------------------
The sprint was too short
Time was a white page and thought:
no one reads my books.
----------------------------------
The Haiku Rebel
Time has come
when surrender is wise
I count six not five
----------------------------------
Is this real haiku
if all it really takes is
five six five and rain?
-----------------------------------
I need you to know
How I fought depression, lost
and now smile again.
-----------------------------------
Recipe for glory
To bid for power,
vie to slake the thirst for life
and never wander.
-----------------------------------
Recipe for Disaster
Hunker down, don't think
Live in the world that isn't
Everything's ok.
Once she came into frame,
all was as it should have been
until she was gone.
--------------------------------
One tries his bestest
but words are hard, so is Math
and geography.
--------------------------------
The cat mews in fear,
caught by a murder of crows
circling in the sky.
--------------------------------
Assumptions are cheap
Ash and slag and all for a flag
Watch your world crumble
--------------------------------
I write in frantic
with my hands free OMG
siri you c word
--------------------------------
A mind is boiling
the water in a puddle
now a daunting lake
--------------------------------
Don't trust the angel.
A cherub sans wings you say?
A devil, always!
--------------------------------
Boaty Mcboatface
is hard to fit in haiku
so I'm glad it's sunk.
--------------------------------
A spade is a spade.
Alone, father said no more,
stabbing the loose soil.
--------------------------------
Love can be brutal
but then so can the weather
Stay indoors and Pray.
--------------------------------
Antwerp is rank smells,
tourists, neighbours, police and
a fleeing river.
--------------------------------
We've grown apart
after I stopped chasing
and waiting for you.
--------------------------------
I called my mum
She summarised my life
and then I hung up.
--------------------------------
In a voiceless sound
a miriad of intent
loses all meaning.
--------------------------------
The sprint was too short
Time was a white page and thought:
no one reads my books.
----------------------------------
The Haiku Rebel
Time has come
when surrender is wise
I count six not five
----------------------------------
Is this real haiku
if all it really takes is
five six five and rain?
-----------------------------------
I need you to know
How I fought depression, lost
and now smile again.
-----------------------------------
Recipe for glory
To bid for power,
vie to slake the thirst for life
and never wander.
-----------------------------------
Recipe for Disaster
Hunker down, don't think
Live in the world that isn't
Everything's ok.
May 5, 2018
Something in the Cracks
You know what it's like; or, rather, I assume you do. You wake up but it's too soon. Your entire being revolts against being roused: the beeping, insolent sound of your mobile phone evokes a rude gesture. Half conscious, you almost press 'OK' on purpose, to skip ahead just one day, but you're too weak to stand on your own, so, dutifully, your fingers find the snooze button instead.
Then there's the kids. Of course they get right up in your face, rowdy as ever, never letting up, never a moment's peace. As the eldest is tormented by her younger counterpart, she dominates her sibling eventually. Until he has had enough and the inevitable escalation demands your attention; So it is. And then you choose to side slightly more with the younger of the two: not because it's right, but it is easier. Your betrayed child's' eyes find yours and plead for justice. Maybe you should try to conjure the last of your strength and bring truth to the table, but the little brats still need to eat their cereals and you're running against a clock that never stops ticking.
Besides, it's probably better for your children to learn defeat early in life. The TV will never stop telling them how they can (and should) be a princess, in a dessert with empowered laser fire and beauty. Power. Life is for the taking, it tells them, endlessly and at every turn. True love. The job of Your Dreams. Justice. Righteousness.
You slam the door of the car behind your squabbling kids. By now a migraine has started pumping it's way into your very being: it won't ever leave, not today. The squabble and tease and chatter until you finally drop them of at school.
For a moment, just a moment, you are alone in your car as you inch your way towards a day full of repetition and supervision. Your boss has a boss and they're all ass-holes.
Like a dream, you stumble through the day. Employing most of your conscious mind to fulfil menial tasks you can't possibly do properly because they are so utterly pointless. You make too many mistakes and you know it. You try your best and it is just not good enough.
One polite lunch-break later and another part of the day passes much the same, until you file back towards your kids, their meals, your lover (hah), and then finally, exhausted and spent, your bed.
If you're a normal person, you might find some joy in what you are doing. Perhaps you are indeed at a job you enjoy. Maybe you do love your counterpart. Perhaps your kids are perfect and so is your life. Perhaps this story is not about you at all: it is about a lot of us, though. Aye, so it is.
But wait, it gets worse. This story has only just begun.
Look, over there, between the cracks. Oh, yes. You've seen it, haven't you? It's certainly seen you. If you can find it again in the gloom, keep your eyes right there and don't blink. If you can.
You know what it is. It's claws rake the walls and ceiling, it's eyes pierce the dark and it's smelled blood. It's coming.
You know what it is. We're just animals in disguise after all. Pick up the axe. Go on, pick it up. Do what you must. Do it.
And then the phone rudely wakes you again from your sleep. Time for another day of toil. Perhaps it's better that way.
-
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Then there's the kids. Of course they get right up in your face, rowdy as ever, never letting up, never a moment's peace. As the eldest is tormented by her younger counterpart, she dominates her sibling eventually. Until he has had enough and the inevitable escalation demands your attention; So it is. And then you choose to side slightly more with the younger of the two: not because it's right, but it is easier. Your betrayed child's' eyes find yours and plead for justice. Maybe you should try to conjure the last of your strength and bring truth to the table, but the little brats still need to eat their cereals and you're running against a clock that never stops ticking.
Besides, it's probably better for your children to learn defeat early in life. The TV will never stop telling them how they can (and should) be a princess, in a dessert with empowered laser fire and beauty. Power. Life is for the taking, it tells them, endlessly and at every turn. True love. The job of Your Dreams. Justice. Righteousness.
You slam the door of the car behind your squabbling kids. By now a migraine has started pumping it's way into your very being: it won't ever leave, not today. The squabble and tease and chatter until you finally drop them of at school.
For a moment, just a moment, you are alone in your car as you inch your way towards a day full of repetition and supervision. Your boss has a boss and they're all ass-holes.
Like a dream, you stumble through the day. Employing most of your conscious mind to fulfil menial tasks you can't possibly do properly because they are so utterly pointless. You make too many mistakes and you know it. You try your best and it is just not good enough.
One polite lunch-break later and another part of the day passes much the same, until you file back towards your kids, their meals, your lover (hah), and then finally, exhausted and spent, your bed.
If you're a normal person, you might find some joy in what you are doing. Perhaps you are indeed at a job you enjoy. Maybe you do love your counterpart. Perhaps your kids are perfect and so is your life. Perhaps this story is not about you at all: it is about a lot of us, though. Aye, so it is.
But wait, it gets worse. This story has only just begun.
Look, over there, between the cracks. Oh, yes. You've seen it, haven't you? It's certainly seen you. If you can find it again in the gloom, keep your eyes right there and don't blink. If you can.
You know what it is. It's claws rake the walls and ceiling, it's eyes pierce the dark and it's smelled blood. It's coming.
You know what it is. We're just animals in disguise after all. Pick up the axe. Go on, pick it up. Do what you must. Do it.
And then the phone rudely wakes you again from your sleep. Time for another day of toil. Perhaps it's better that way.
-
If you would like to subscribe to my newsletter, you can do so here. http://martin-freznell.mozello.com/co...
