View Full Version : Some shorts and poems, good and bad.
Love.
The clouds scudded across the sky as though the whole world was locked into fast motion. Leaves, yellow, umber and brown swirled in the breeze and a light drift of rain swept first left then right across the pond. Small waves spread ominously over the surface.
Old Joe sat quietly by the waters edge, shifting his weight occasionally in the rigid surrounds of the old leather backed wheelchair. Beside him Alice waited patiently, her last question left unanswered, hanging delicately in the breeze.
"Please Joe" she whispered, "tell me where she is", this last plaintively.
After a short pause he replied, his voice no more than a coarse, low growl.
"You know as well as i do, Sirius".
"I know you speak to them, please, ask them to bring her back".
"I've told you already Alice, she's happy, she doesn't want to come back" and then angrily. "Leave well enough alone".
"I can't, you know i can't'.
"You must", Joe's eye's softened and his voice cracked, "They watch, they watch us all. Nothing you or i say will change a thing, maybe after this whole Serpo thing has died down, well who knows".
"I can't wait that long, i just want to see her before i go".
"I'm sorry Alice" Joe said ,"really i am, but the next time they return it won't be for any happy reunions, and thankfully neither you or i will be around to see it".
Tears rolled down Alice's cheeks, reached her lips and fell slowly to earth as the clouds continued to skip across an azure sky.
Joe reached back to a sun bleached neck and rubbed the two small lumps located at the base of his neck, more through habit than any urge to scratch.
" Never understood why you cared so much about a damn dog " he said, but Alice wasn't listening.
mojo
my tribute to Howard and his alter ego Conan.
Dust Devil's
From the hazy wastelands
emerged a figure bold and bright,
across his back a sword was slung
to protect him from the night.
While far back in the distance
three soldiers kept his pace,
underneath their hooded cloaks
no sign of any face.
For seven days and seven nights
he forged on through the waste,
until at last he stood his ground,
defiance plagued his face.
Three devils of the desert
studied the statue in the sand,
a bronzed and warlike figure
with a sword held in his hand.
No thoughts at all of bravery
did these devils understand,
no thoughts at all of mercy
but the matter now at hand.
Movement slow and easy
as the night time battled day,
blood red in the eastern sky
shone off the devils prey.
With quick and easy method
did one man fight the three,
be damned to you, you demons
youre never taking me.
On through the night
the battle raged,
until the dawn
was breached.
Now forever in the deserts
the wanderer stands his ground,
whilst the devils move in circles
never making any sound.
And to this day they battle on
the dust swirls all around,
and across the deserts suface
the battle rages on.
Forsaken
A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set.
The moon casts eerie reflections upon the uppermost boughs, ghostly light filters down to the forest floor, illuminating the passage of a lone hunter. He moves slowly, gliding through the tangled foliage without a sound. The breeze blows gently against his face as he moves upwind of his prey. He sniffs the air and cocks an ear, one foot raised, tail down.
He stands dormant now, stone cast in silvery contemplation, waiting. Subtle movement catches his indomitable gaze and he reacts, eager for the kill. No need for silence now, hunger drives his body violently through the brush upon an unsuspecting doe. Tearing, slavering jaws search for and find an unprotected jugular, clamping, rending. Sweet life flows from one to the other, staining fur and forest floor. Thrashing limbs slowly subside then cease and are lowered reverently to the ground.
He feeds, though never taking his eyes from the surrounding greenery, ears pricked. Soon he is sated, though loathe to leave the carcass, he waits, and offers up silent thanks for what he has received. Sound and scent reach his ears, the pack is coming near. He remembers the pain, the scars of his departure lay heavy upon his skin, and his soul, and he utters a mournful cry before sliding silently away. Exiled. Alone.
A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the nearby howl of wolves answering their forsaken brother. The sun begins to rise.
Sin.
Then.........
A burnt and barren beast did pass across this land,
a stone of evil prophesy held within its hand.
And everywhere the vulgar wretch breathed an impure mist,
the people of the rainbow serpent, wept and mourned and kissed.
And Now......
When the moon rises and beckons to the dawn,
the lovers leave their lonely lives and meet, and kiss and mourn.
The bright and fertile mistress,
The burnt and barren beast.
A haunting cry of loneliness,
A fast before the feast.
Then when the sunlight strikes the frost and brightens up the day,
is when the lovers look within, then run and hide and pray.
Hectic.
Fast flow's the river, while on the banks you shiver,
scaly, repulsed, venemous, forever.
Rapidly into the water you fall, and are delivered,
drenched, wet, sodden, dismembered.
Quickly filled with terror, the lonely life giver,
flashing, seeing, prophecy, deliver.
Swiftly a lights demise, is gone from your eyes.
Begin Construct of Self
In between the spaces even air breathes. It's here that i find my Self, hiding behind an electron. As if something as small as an electron could hide my existence for long.
Even so it whizz's by, close, i duck instinctively.
Damn things forever whirring around, i could stop them if i wanted but that would ruin the program.
Self realises it has been discovered and gives up without a fight, silently absorbed into Ego.
I should retract to the macro, i haven't checked on the Quantum level lately and left alone they tend to run amok. But time is short so i leave them and expand my consciousness.
Surprise!
Shit, look at those little fuckers running around destroying my program. I'll have to shut it down.
See what happens when you walk away for a few minutes.
PURPOSE
I'm here of my own free will. I tell you that now , you may not believe it later. I came with a purpose.
This place is a eater of souls.
I dont speak to any of them, doctors, patients, nurses. Their all tainted you see and they would detract me from my quest with their words, if they could. The one i seek is here, he knows me but is yet to reveal himself.
The voices seek to distract me too, the ones in my head. Fools i used to think of those who claimed such afflictions.
Now i'm the fool.
Jester.
Hah.
He was revealed to me today, i passed the room where he lay. He saw my passage and cringed.
Tonight, i feel it. A source of power has revealed itself to me. I must bend my will to the task. Ahhh but the reward.
The male nurse, John, locked me away tonight. He looked into my eye's as i knew he must. I had seen it. He left and the door remained open, as i had known.
Such power.
The halls were quiet, the orderlies huddled around the teevee in the lunchroom watching the game. I slid past the open door. No one looked up.
There ahead of me was the door.
This door had also been left unlocked, by John. The door didn't need locking anyway as the only occupant was strapped securely to a single bed.
His eye's widened in surprise at my entrance and he thought to scream, i saw the thought. Then i saw the resignation upon his face and our eye's locked. My fleshly appearance melted away, a skull oozing rotting flesh and fetid puss replaced it. My mask had peeled away. He said not a word as my hand clasped his throat though his eye's bulged in terror. The cartledge of his throat was slowly crushed, bruised, then swelled and bled. His eye's screamed though his mouth did not, could not. I could feel the blood surge and pulse through my fingertips. And ever deeper i reached until the spark of life fled before my touch. His heart still pumped, though his eye's were now souless windows.
As i must i painted the sign upon his head and upon the wall, then as i must i drank from the rent in his throat.
John locked my door later, as i lay on my cot. When he left i washed myself and slept.
FREEDOM
Today i'm to be released. Two months after the homeless mans death. The police investigation has stagnated, their only suspect, a nurse named John.
Hah.
I spoke to my doctor a week after the homeless mans death. Oh he was surprised, elated. Oh such ego. His collegues would be impressed. I spoke kindly and politely and exhibited no signs of violent tendencies. Seven weeks later and he has agreed to my release.
Hah.
REDEMPTION
I found the house easily enough, typical middle income suburbia. Three bedrooms, two kids, four year old bmw and dog. Saving for a pool. The door was open as i knew it would be. The little girls room was the third door down the hall. I could hear her mother singing to me from the kitchen.
Hey little sister what have you done
Hey little sister who's the only one
Hey little sister who's your superman
Hey little sister who's the one you want
Hey little sister shot gun!
It's a nice day to start again
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again
The little girl, Susan, looked up as i entered her room, I'd seen her only the night before on the teevee in my motel room. She looked much sweeter in the flesh. I tried my most charming smile and held a silent finger to my lips, and she smiled at me. I knelt before her and she looked into my eye's. From my belt i pulled the knife and she never said a word. It caught the sun from the open window and shimmered momentarily, holding both our gaze's. Quickly i raised it and cut.
Ahhh the power.
She fell forward into my arms and began to suckle upon the cut in my throat.
PURPOSE
I'm here for a reason, when i was a little girl i had cancer but i miraculously regained my health after a mad man committed suicide before me in my own home. I was on the news for weeks, but none knew the truth.
I'm here of my own free will. I tell you that now , you may not believe it later. I came with a purpose.
This place is a eater of souls.
The Beast Within.
No light, no sound, just the sense of being not alone. I must keep moving, the prime directive drives me forever forward into the teeth of the approaching storm. Before me stands a beast.
Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward.
Whoever cannot take care of themself without that law is both.
For a wounded man shall say to his assailant,
'If I live, I will kill you. If I die, You are forgiven.'
Such is the rule of honour.
These words resonated inside my head as the beast approached. It's eyes blazed with a savage malevolence, the putrid stench of rotting flesh wafted from its gangrenous jaws, poisoned ichor dripped from slavering fangs. Eighteen of the beasts minions cavorted eagerly about its hideous frame,six to the left,six to the right and six in front.
A low humming, deeper than Poe's plutonian night, pulsed, then flowed through the air.My body shudders in anticipation, i know that the assault is imminent, muscles tensed.The beast lifts its enormous head and scowls, the humming sound intensifies, the pitch soaring.
A blazing light murders the shadows of the past, a wall of sonic fury explodes forth, my body moves, unbidden. Into the frenetic maelstrom i am thrown, against the body of the beast i am thrust. His surprise at my attack lends me heart and he falls beneath a barrage of blows. His minions, mesmerised by the light, fail to hear their masters screams.The pit has a life of its own now, the souls of vanquished youth rise again, into the light.
Omerta, we scream as one, fists pumping, fingers spread, heads pounding in frenetic assent.
And so Lamb of God strode upon the stage.
BURN.
Chaos reigned supreme on the streets of New York.
" Run Cassie ", screamed Peter " there catching up to us ".
" I cant go any further, Peter, please don't leave me " she cried as she fell to her knee's in the middle of central park, the crazed mob spilling into the pathway only half a mile away.
" Here grab my hand, they'll tear us to pieces if they catch us ".
Cassie reached out for his hand, tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, the top of her military uniform spotted darkly with wet spots.
" I cant run anymore, im sorry," she sobbed " don't they understand we were only following orders ".
" They need someone to blame Cass," said Peter as tears welled in his eye's, he looked to the sky, as the mob descended upon them in vengeful fury.
Death stalked the streets of Saigon.
" Liu, Liu can you hear me, i am blind, Liu where are you ".
" Here Akane, " croaked Liu from beneath the wreckage of their home " follow my voice, i am to your left, i fear i shall die my love, i can feel the blood soaking through my clothes, hurry Liu, so that i can hold you again before i go ".
Akane reached his side and fell to her knees beside her beautiful husband and began scrabbling at the wreckage that covered his broken form, " dont leave me Liu ",she pleaded, salty tears running from her scorched eye's, " I need you ".
Liu didnt answer.
Poison crept through the streets of Tel Aviv.
" I will not pray anymore Father, what good has prayer done us now ", yelled Aaron defiantly, though muffled through his gas mask.
" It may not help us now, but it may very well save you from the fires of hell in the next life ", his father retorted as he sat prone on the living room floor, his face also covered.
" Hah have you not seen Father, we are already in hell ", Aaron crowed as he lifted the mask from his face, the toxic air acted quickly bringing tears to his unprotected eye's, he was dead before the first of his tears had reached his lips, his body contorted next to his father who kept praying.
Violence ran rampant through the streets of London.
" Over there ", yelled the leader of the pack, " I saw the slimy bastard run down that street " they took off in hot pursuit.
" Don't let them get away ", roared another voice.
" The girl's mine ", screamed another, his voice thick with rage.
" Not if i get there first ", followed by a demented laugh.
They rounded the corner and a young girl sat huddled in her fathers lap, the tears glistening on her dark skin, her father grasping a swollen ankle.
" Yaaaah ", brayed the leader as he swung the crowbar clutched in his tattooed hand at the small girls upturned face.
Despair hung like a pall over the streets of Baghdad.
Abdul ran down the broken street, a small child clutched in his arms.
" Just breathe, precious, dont speak, just breathe ", he whispered as he ran.
" I'm scared ", the child whispered back, his breathe broken like the streets upon which his father ran " I cant feel anything, why cant i feel the pain papa ".
"Ssshhh, boy, not far now " he snapped as they came to a bend in the road and he stopped dead in his tracks, where the hospital had stood there was only rubble. He fell to his knees and wept quietly, his tears falling on to the stomach of the small child in his arms, now limp and lifeless.
Wrath flowed through the streets of Alice Springs.
" I want to go outside mum ", Davey whinged " why cant i go to Jimmy's ".
" You know why ", replied his Mum " It's a lockdown today ".
" But why ".
" Because the army man said so, that's why ".
" Are they letting off more bomb's do ya think ", Davey said excitedly, as in the distance, as if right on cue, there was a loud explosion, " Why wont they let us watch "
" Because the worlds on fire sweety, and i dont think they want anyone to see them with the matches in their hand ".
They both looked out the window at the same time, the tear that fell from the mothers eye evaporated as the blast wave hit.
Pestilence slithered everywhere.
" No use cryin' ya old cow "
" Shut ya mouth ya dirty ol git "
" Hah, gunna make me are ya, ya cant even see me through them milky whites ", sneeringly " there only any good for cryin i spose ".
" You deserve this life you old shit " she cried, the tears came unbidden.
" Hah, yeh i do, it's mine now, all mine, and there aint enough tears in the world to put out all these fires, hah ", he laughed and wandered away as acid fell from the sky, tears from above.
Tick Tock.
"We have some sort of sickness, it's been in our family as far back as any of us can remember" I said to start off the session.
"A mental disorder", this from the Doctor.
"I guess you could call it that, my mum used to say we were blessed but i don't see it that way, I can see the future, not like those fakers you see on teevee and not all the time either" I could see the look pass across his face and before he could say anything i quickly continued.
"I know, just let me get it out before you say anything, I've paid for my half hour, please dont interrupt, it's hard enough as it is". I drew a deep breath and pressed on.
"It's not like i can see the future all the time, i've gone years without it happening, then all of a sudden i'll be walking down the street and....", I grabbed the glass of water off the desk and took a quick sip, this was the hardest part to explain.
"Yes and...", the doc prompted.
"Well, it's like time stands still, everything around me just stops, people, cars, birds, even the wind. I can't move either, i'm as paralysed as the rest except i can see these lines, time lines i guess you'd call them". Another deep breath.
"Have you ever seen the movie Tron", i asked.
"Yeh sure, years ago."
"Well," i said "it's kind of like that, except these lines are like streaking out from everywhere and everything, now don't ask me how i can see 'em all, 'cause i don't know. I just sort of have to concentrate on one thing and it opens up like one of those movies in time lapse of a flower blooming, you know the one's i mean."
The doc nodded his head.
"So lets say there's a guy about to cross a road and i concentrate on him, all of a sudden all these lines will flow out from him heading in all directions, one of them might show him bending down to pick up a coin, another might show him stepping off the kerb into the path of a truck, another might show him waiting for the lights to change."
I took another sip of the water, the Doc was looking at me intently now.
"Now there's a whole heap of these lines and i can seperate them and just concentrate on one at a time and follow it to an end point, usually to the next stop. I dont really know how to explain it better than that, it's like there are only so many of these important points where the lines split up. Sometimes, like if i followed the line where the guy steps into the path of the truck, the line will only travel for that short space of time to when the guy dies, but some of the other's that i've followed can go hundreds, sometimes even thousands of years into the future." The doc looked like he might be thinking about dialling Shady Acres so I rushed on.
"The thing is Doc ive seen some amazing things, some good and some not so good, but every future i've followed to the end point has always had us in it, the human race i mean," The Doc looked up at me after that.
"Until the other day". I sat forward and looked into his eye's.
"It seems that when ever one of these pit stop points appears, all the previous futures cease to exist and new ones open up, and well the thing is Doc," i said as i pulled the revolver from the back of my pants,"i happened to see you walking to the station after work the other day, and that's when it hit me, and i really am sorry Doc, but i followed every one of your lines and if i let you leave this office alive today then it's all over for us and i just can't let that happen," i cocked the pistol .
"My mum also used to say that we are Gods shephards and we need to protect the future, and i guess she was right". I shot him between his bulging eye's and waited for the police.
another fucking double post
This sort of works with "Forsaken" one of the earlier shorts, i was trying to build a whole bunch of shorts together that blended with one another.
War
A quiet breeze rustles through the woods, carrying the distant howl of wolves. The sun has long ago set. Beneath the loamy forest floor an army prepares for war, scouts venture forth searching for the dread enemy. Soldiers mill about restlessly, eager. Underground preperations are under way for the expected successful campaign and the expansion of the empire. The Queen holds court and imparts instructions to her trusted generals, her scent wafts on tendrils of air.
Word arrives and the war machine moves as one, a wave of single minded terror. Below the eucalypt the armies meet in a frenzy of fiery stings and ripping jaws spouting burning fluid into open wounds. Fierce visages and deadly intent surge back and forth. The battlefield resounds with the clash of armored foe, the stench of chemical distress lays pungently on the ground, causing confusion.
Soon there is a victor and those that can retreat, the others, wounded or slow are killed quickly and without compunction. The triumphant army returns to their nest, the conquered lands now another source of food for the growing colony.
Above them the night sky sparkles, the breeze continues to blow and wolves stalk quietly across the loamy forest floor on padded paw.
Winters Lament
He hadnt been down to the pool for weeks, leaves cluttered it's surface, swirling with the light breeze. Michael left, as far as orderlies went he wasn't too bad he thought. He closed his eye's and listened, far off a magpie warbled, the tree's whispered and the blood swam slowly through his veins as a low thrum in the background.
He must have drifted off for a gentle rustling sound bought him out of the trance, next to him in a chair similar to his own sat an elderly woman, older even than he.
He smiled, she smiled. No words were spoken. She seemed familiar and he thought to ask if he knew her, but didn't. She smiled, he smiled. Again he decided to speak but she raised a finger to her ruby lips, and moved her head from side to side.
He frowned and looked at the pond, the leaves danced upon it's surface now, ripples spread forming the leaves into pictures from his past. There, as a young child, chasing clouds. Then as a younger man, trampling over the earth. Now as an older man waiting as the clouds return and the earth spread's it's maw, waiting to devour his shrunken frame.
The wind picks up and the leaves scatter, twirling away across the pool. He turns to face the woman again and she smiles, then speaks.
" It's time, do you know me now ".
" Yes, i know you, you are Mother Nature, you are life and you are ultimately death too ".
" Yes ".
When Michael returned to the pool he was saddened to find the old man had passed away, he thought to himself he wasn't a bad old guy really.
I Call This.....
I see through a smashed up face
theres no one to hate
No one to embrace, you call this fate, fate
You call this fate
I speak to you through broken lips
theres no one to hear
No one to kiss, you call this fear, fear
You call this fear,
Hey hey i call this life, life
Hey hey i call this life
You you i call you out, out
You i call you out
Hey i call this life, i call you out
I hear through a hole in my head
theres no one to care
No one to listen, you call this fair, fair
You call this fair
Hey hey i call this life, life
Hey hey i call this life
You you i call you out, out
You i call you out
Hey i call this life, i call you out
Theres no one to hate
I call this life, life
No one to hear
I call this life, life
No one to care
I call this life, life
I call this life.
blood red sands
blood red sands
mark the passage of my hands
a liquid kiss from evil lips
a tender touch of leather whips
a brief glimpse of thigh and breast
a caress of steel across my neck
blood red sands
blood red sands
mark the passage of my hands
fingerprints and lipstick
lip prints and fingersticks
print sticks and finger lips
print fingers on sticky lips
blood red sands
blood red sands
mark the passage of my hands
a liquid kiss from evil lips
a tender touch of leather whips
a brief glimpse of thigh and breast
a caress of steel across my neck
blood red sands
blood red sands
mark the passage of my hands
mark the passage of my hands
mark the passage of my hands
He who laughs last......
With joy at last my heart beats, not with terror as has been the case these many days since the naval frigate HMS Pandora (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Pandora_(1779)) sank beneath the waves. Nor joy at the sight of the dolphins that had kept me safe yesterday as that predator of the deep circled ominously. My joy is for the sight of land, though i scarce believe my own eye's, being that they are so swollen and sore that tears struggle to escape. As i draw closer to the land upon this flimsy piece of flotsam that saved my miserable hide i can hear the gulls screeching and smell the vibrant scent of earth and vegetation. My skin blistered and raw burns like acid as the sea washes over me in belligerent waves, unconcerned at my pain. My blood seeps pink, mingled as it is with the puss from my ruptured sores, staining my wooden saviour which is in the shape of a cross from where it broke from the mast. Ironic.
I would laugh, hah, if my throat was not parched and ruinous from the swallowing of great amounts of brine, as i have just escaped that Grim Reaper for the third time.
The first time i escaped his bony clutches was that fateful day aboard the Bounty, me only a young man caught up in the machinations of that vulgar mutiny. Bligh and Christian having no thought for us pawns but as pieces to be forfeited in their game of ego's. I barely survived that insurrection, only the intervention of my friend John Adams saved me from a sharks frenzy.
Then of course there was my capture after our return to Tahiti aboard the Bounty. The arrival of the Pandora in the south pacific, sent from the motherland to fetch us home to the gallows was a fearful sight to some of the mutineers who went scurrying into the jungle in an attempt to escape. But for me and four others it felt like a chance at redemption, and so we gave ourselves up without a fight. The other nine were soon rounded up and suffered at the hands of the soldiers brutally. As captives we left those glorious islands and those dusky innocent people in search of Fletcher Christian and the rest of our mutinous crew. At first jailed upon the quarter deck in what we mockingly called Pandora's box i was soon taken below decks to be punished by Captain Edwards. I wasn't the only one of course to suffer his wrath at our mutiny and desertion of Captain Bligh, even though at no time did i ever wish to be a part of it at all, but was merely caught in a tide of circumstance.
Aboard the Pandora an illness passed on by those misty eyed maidens of the isles had me bedridden for days and wishing for a quick death, payment no doubt for our sins of the flesh, only the ministrations of the good Doctor George Hamilton saw me through. This illness was the reason i was below decks and not caged above with the others when the Pandora met her end on a jagged reef. Luck, fate or whatever it is called had saved me once again.
As the Pandora sank beneath that violent storm tossed sea, and as my mates swallowed the briny, i held my nerve and found a breach within the Pandora's hull. Swimming to safety with my satchel strapped about my waist i grasped a splintered spar which has carried me these past few days. The voices and screams of those aboard will haunt me and i wish with all my heart that they survived, particularly Doctor Hamilton and John Adams and perhaps not so much for Captain Edwards, even if that thought stains my soul with more sin.
The Reapers gruesome visage has haunted my thought's as i've lain across this drifting wood. The sea, my lover for all these years, has deserted me at last to atone for my sins alone.
Now washed ashore i smile, though it cracks my lips and more than likely resembles a grimacing corpse. Barely able, i drag my pain wracked body above the high tide line and collapse. Though born upon the waves and suckled at the breast that swells beneath the hull i was sore pleased to be once again on terra firma, even if i am marooned and a thousand miles from hope. The sun, my persistent nemesis, now gives up it's claim and sets slowly behind the line of trees no more than twenty yards from my supine form.
For five days now my strength has slowly returned, there is fruit aplenty though it made me gravely ill at first, ravenous as i was. And lizards, languid, slow moving and succulent. Rocky outcrops at the northern end of my paradise harbour eggs and chicks. Time, now that i can move freely, to explore a little more and see what i can see.
I tried to cross the interior of my little island but the foliage is so tangled and dense it would take a day to cover twenty yards and the vines and branches attempt to shred my skin, opening sores that had promised to heal.
I decide to set out the next day and circumnavigate my world if possible.
The nights seem to be getting colder and a fire will soon be a must if i'm to survive.
I've not written in my journal for many days now, i haven't the heart, it seems that i've been fooled. Why do we cling so dearly to life when it's clearly not benign at all but a desperate creature that wants to eat us, flesh and soul and all. The Reaper may have been the lesser of two evils perhaps. My luck is in truth a curse. I laugh, a little dementedly, and shake my fist at the vaulted sky.
By my count now three weeks have passed on this accursed atoll. My explorations discovered, to my dismay, that this Eden is no more than a mirage. Scarcely more than a league or two to walk around the whole damned thing, the gulls cajoling and wheedling at my nerves the whole time, as though aware of the blight upon my soul. Insects swarm about and attempt to devour me at every turn, as if i havent bled enough without now suffering at the whim of these tiny vampyres. The fruit continues to make me ill and i cannot keep it down anymore, the lizards once succulent now taste foul and sulphuric. The gulls eggs have all hatched and left the nest for the safety of the treetops and the sky. It hasn't rained for over a week and fresh water now lies stagnant and stale, the sacs of the little vampyres littering the surface.
Blasted though my soul is with all my crimes, and though the guilt wracks me at times, i believed in our Lord through all these trials. It seems now that i'm forsaken.
Though some wreckage has reached the shore none of it is of any use. Broken and splintered wood, torn and tattered fabric no larger than a handkerchief, no casks or bales or any other thing.
As the lord is my witness, i swear, as i lay huddled beneath the leaves at the edge of the forest floor, with the moon looking balefully down upon me, that the sea whispers my name, her breath lightly caresses my cheek, salty and slick. Am i forgiven?
If any shall ever find these words i would be amazed and saddened, amazed that any would land upon this evil shore, and saddened that if you have your nightmare has just begun. These words are to be the last that i shall write before i carry my broken spar to the waters edge and pledge my body and soul back to my mistress the sea. She calls me now, her tongue laps at my toes, her hair white and wild breaks far from the shore as if tossed, her breast swells to meet my embrace and her loins shall forever hold my bones within their loving grasp.
And above the crash of the surf the Reaper laughs, loudest and longest of all.
M4S
There was light, bright and almost hot, then came the sound, first a rushing noise that built into a crescendo that shook the air, then became a steady roar in the .........
Air?
Substance, maybe, a feeling of being surrounded by...........substance, air.
A tangible feeling, movement, the air created the feeling of movement combined with the light and sound created a sense of being.
Yes, being. Existence.
What if i do this.
I?
What am I?
I am the centre of the movement, the air moves around I. The light surrounds I. Sound also reacts with I. I can also be movement if i do this.
Touch.
Aahhh, more substance, more movement. This is called feeling. But what is this that i have been doing. It is called thought.
I will think.
GeneralStriker
05-14-2009, 03:38 PM
Could some beauty have been salvaged from the trite? Had you not thrown a glove it might have been so. You'll have neither critique nor edit from this just poet.
haha...whatever...as if its for no other edification than thine, though you saw a glove thrown you fail to recognise the dagger through the heart you placed.
ego is a beautiful thing in the hands of the innocent and a tool of malice in the hands of a decrepit old goat.
GeneralStriker
05-14-2009, 04:10 PM
ego is a beautiful thing I think not. But do and be how you must.
ego is a beautiful thing I think not. But do and be how you must.
context is also a beautiful thing.
A Beautiful Thing.
That pale and silky breast heaved beneath fingers bent and broken
That breath sighed into an ear both pierced by man and age
That thigh of infinate tenderness wrapped around a sweaty torso
That hand gentle held in its embrace a beating heart, mine
A beautiful thing tainted by the gross, by the immoral and ravaged
A beautiful thing smiling while above a beast grimaced
A beautiful thing bending to the will of times and eons of rage
A beautiful thing devoured, tasted and spat out into the aether
That beautiful thing survived only to become
Bent and broken
Pierced by man and age
Sweaty
Mine
Immoral and ravaged
Grimacing with
Rage
Devoured
anarch
09-21-2010, 08:25 AM
He was born of the light, formless and free and that to choose shape and form for me. In the ether they did watch and in the light he thunk thoughts. As he looked he desired to help to come and bring change and manipulate our pains. Knowing that it meant to be born in struggle he crossed the bridge did not hesitate did not stumble. into this reality he choose to be born to us to aid and guide and make our world shine. What pre life vision did he have? who can tell me about his plans? what is it that he desires to accomplish beyond being the savior of our lust. What will he say? what will he do? His soul is here in the body she grew.
thought and light given flesh and form into this life he choose to be born to poor parents of meager means we are brought joy even though to live involves suffering. form that we shall shield as much as we can understanding that at times it will be us administering judgments and praise , encouragement and grace, The rings of value morals of honor or valor come to him naturally for us to mold into right for he chose to come to us from the light.
pack3tg0st
09-21-2010, 08:31 AM
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Translation:
Waka waka bang splat tick tick hash,
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Hazelnut
09-21-2010, 08:37 AM
< > ! * ' ' #
^ " ` $ $ -
! * = @ $ _
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& [ ] . . /
| { , , SYSTEM HALTEDTranslation:
Waka waka bang splat tick tick hash,
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Bang splat equal at dollar under-score,
Percent splat waka waka tilde number four,
Ampersand bracket bracket dot dot slash,
Vertical-bar curly-bracket comma comma CRASH
rjDflFEDdMc
1931.
A hot dry wind blows from the north, searing the blood red sands of the desert. A lone figure emerges from the haze, weaving and staggering against the blistering noonday sun. His face weathered and burnt, lips dry and parched, eyes blazing as fiercely as the sun with insane intensity. Harold Lasseter knew that death was stalking him, gaining ground with every stumbling step, yet he also knew that salvation may be just over the next rise, around the next bend. And…….
2006.
Andy Kane, geoligist, amateur archeologist, ex spook, and four wheel drive enthusiast belted along Larapinta Drive in his new Landrover Discovery, heading west into the setting sun. Lying on the passenger seat, head between his legs, licking away at his nuts was his best mate Mojo. Andy remembered the joke his old man used to tell him whenever they saw a dog licking its balls.
"Why do they do that Dad."
"Because they can son, because they can."
Mojo seemed to sense his thought and looked up, a quizzical expression on his face, as if to say, you may have opposable thumbs but you cant do this, no matter how smart you think you are. Andy had always owned Blue Heelers, his old man had bred them for years, loyal, smart and extremely hard working they were ideally suited to life in the bush.
Andy breathed in the hot dry air through the half open window, some could take it and others couldn’t, but to Andy this was heaven. Open road in front of him, blue skies above, no hassles, three weeks of peace and quiet.
1931
Harry stood atop a granite precipice. Below him a dry sandy creek bed meandered between gnarled ghost gums and rocky hillocks. A red spine of stone and granite seemed to swim through the blood red desert sands along side the parched river bed. It's shape reminded him of a snake, shimmering in the afternoon sun, it's scales made of granite seemed to ripple as if in motion.
All about on every flat surface were pictographs, left by the local aborigines thought Harry to himself. After resting in the shade of a eucalypt Harry descended the shale covered slope carefully, mindful of the long fall should he stumble. At last he stood at the base of the nearest ridge, a part of the snakes undulating spine. A slow smile spread across his sunburnt and weather beaten face. This was it allright he thought, the gold veins as thick as a mans arm wove through the rock face in all directions. The reef, his reef. They'd all laughed, sniggered behind his back, ridiculed him publicly. And now for the second time he stood before it in awe.
2006
Red sands as far as the eye could see, and further it seemed. Only just within sight, low on the horizon Andy could make out a low line of hill's that seemed to flow through the heat haze radiating from the earth. Andy knocked the Disco into low range and put his foot down as his tires struggled for purchase in the thickening drifts of sand. Mojo growled quietly from his seat, annoyed at being woken by the sudden surge in speed.
" Easy mate, not far now and i'll let you have that rabbit i shot last night".
Mojo appeared to nod acceptance, or maybe it was just the movement of the car, either way he closed his eyes and settled back down to sleep as the four wheel drive continued on through the rugged desert landscape.
Much later, after two close calls with submerged rocks beneath the deep red sands they arrived at a creek bed, abandoned by time and waters. Towering along the far side of the bank rose a red and silver escarpment, the granite sparkling in the dying embers of the sun. Andy swung the disco up the river bed and drove into the setting sun.
1931
Suddenly Harry felt a chill run down his spine and he turned. Only metres away stood an old black man, grizzled gray hair hung like rotten vines from his head, masking milky white eye's, a flattened nose and bloated peeling lips. Scars thick and swollen crisscrossed his wizened torso.
" Go back, sacred ground ", said the old man in surprisingly good english.
" I cant go back old man " said Harry " I've come too far to leave now ".
" Not safe, evil lives here, ancient " rasped the elder " older than the sun, the serpent devours all but the guardians ".
" Will you stop me " Harry said menacingly, though he'd never been a violent man he felt a sudden unease in this old mans presence.
" No i will not stop, i only warn. Your life is your own, feed the spirits if you will ".
The old man turned and and walked slowly into the setting sun, his shadow stretching back towards Harry. Harry looked away towards the veins of gold then turned again to watch the old man depart, but he was gone. Harry ran to where he'd last seen the old bloke, but there was nothing there, his footsteps merely stopped then vanished.Harry shook his head, it's the heat he thought, i've been walking for days, must be sunstroke. His thought's swam confidently atop the sea of his consciousness, while all below was turbulent, knowing in his heart the truth.
The sun had by now reached the horizon and the shadows had crept out from under the rocky spines protection. Harry needed shelter for the night so began trudging through the thick sand following the line of the serpents undulating body, or so it seemed to him.
2006
Andy had found a spot on the bank of the old creek bed next to a large overhang of granite, the back of the disco reversed up to the opening, tail gate open. Andy unloaded his camping gear, all the while watching Mojo tearing up and down the river bed barking at the galahs as they settled on the branches of the massive old eucalypts, river red gums and ghost gums. Soon enough, with the gas cooker going, spam frying away in the pan and Mojo lying beneath the four by four chewing on the remains of a rabbit carcass, Andy settled back on his swag.
1931
None too soon Harry came to a place where a particularly large granite outcropping loomed out over the river bed, forming an opening that went in for about twenty yards. Perfect thought Harry, he dropped his gear with a weary sigh and went off in search of fire wood and some large stones for his billy.
Later with a fire crackling and a belly full Harry lay back and dreamt of the wealth and fame that would soon be his.
Soon though his dreams turned dark, thought's of wealth were replaced by a slithering horror, notions of fame sank in a quagmire of despair. Harry struggled to wake, he thought his eye's had opened but it could not be. Above his head the ceiling of rock seemed alive in the flickering flames of the fire, moist it seemed, a fetid stench wafted from the back of the cave. Harry wrenched his body in horror as fangs seemed to slide from some rocky recess at the opening of the hollow, amber liquid dripping from their tips. His mind wrestled madly with his paralysed body, as the slavering jaws closed grindingly down upon his immobile body, Harry Lasseter uttered one last desperate scream, his tortured voice echoed across the night setting the galahs aloft from the perches.
2006
Andy woke with a start, Mojo was standing at the entrance of the cave growling, hackles raised.
" Whats up boy "
Andy moved slowly to the back of the Disco and out from under the overhang, reaching in he found his rifle and slid it slowly out, possibly just some dingo's nearby he thought. Andy walked to where Mojo stood to see the silhouette of a man down in the creek bed about thirty feet away.
" Who are you " Andy stammered, surprised to see someone way out here.
" My name's Harry, you dont want to stay here, please leave ".
" Sorry mate but this aint private land ".
" Dont stay, dont sleep, go. The serpent never sleeps, the gold that flows through his veins is venom, the granite is the souls of those it has devoured, the red rock and the blood red sands are the juices of our lives. Go."
A sound like teeth grinding caused Andy to look quickly around, nothing moved. He swung back to speak to the stranger but he'd gone, disappeared into the night. Mojo bolted down to the creek bed and sniffed the ground where the man had been, a low growl eminated from his throat. Andy walked slowly down to the sandy creek when the grinding noise caused him to turn again, he stood, mouth open in dumb surprise as the overhang where he'd just been standing started to close, what looked like fangs seemed to grow from the very rock. A loud hiss escaped from the hollow followed by a smell of decay.
Andy bolted, closely followed by the dog, tail between its legs. He ran as hard and as far as he could before he collapsed in a heap, his chest heaving, Mojo beside him.
In between breaths Andy looked about, only feet away a twisted spire of rock rose from the river bed. Andy opened his mouth to scream as the rock came alive and whipped about, encircling him, strangling his scream to a gurgling moan before crushing the life from the fleshy vessel that was once his body.
2006
Bob Darken swerved his truck violently on to the shoulder of the beaten dirt track and skidded to a halt. He reached back and lifted his .303 down from the rack and climbed out into the searing heat. Looking forlornly back at him was a blue heeler, skin and bone and lolling tongue.
" Here boy " Bob held out his hand, " come and have a drink mate ".
The dog trotted silently up to the truck as Bob filled a plate from the water skin hanging from the tail gate. After drinking his fill Bob picked him up and put him into the truck, his eye's chilled Bob to the core as he loaded him in, they seemed to radiate sadness, and something else, forboding.
Lasseter's Reef refers to the purported discovery, in 1897, of a fabulously rich gold (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gold) deposit in a remote and desolate corner of central Australia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australia). The gold reef's location remains a mystery—if it exists.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lasseter's_Reef (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lasseter's_Reef)
FancyFree
01-30-2012, 01:40 PM
Oh this is a treasure trove of good reading! Gonna take me a bit to read through all of this. Great stuff, Mojo!
heh, all pretty old stuff FF, found some old cd's with that previous story on it, wrote it for an ats competition a few years back, before amkon started.