Monday, December 5, 2011

Strange Love

Deep within my core lays a love so raw that I've grasped it down from lofty heights of ethereal meaningless otherness and ground it to earth, remaking it into the neurochemical secretions that it always was. Ive let it lace its multifaceted interactions within me interacting and shooting waves across minds, meta loving. It has sprung up from the primordial mud and evolved over time to become this lotus flower blossoming inside of me, spilling pollen from my quivering lips a sweet perfumed storm for you to inhale and take it as you will.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Medicine's Real Creed

I want to stay a part of this tiny world
Be privy to the arcane knowledge it holds guard over
About this weyrde body of ours both wondrous and frightening
Learn knowledge only God and the Devil intimately know
To succeed each level of this brotherhood
And be brought closer to understanding
To accept that understanding will always move further away.
I acknowledge the white coat is purity I will never again have
And with each life I sacrifice in the name of my craft,
Each mistreated soul I cause agony for the sake of my pride, my ego, my greed
It sullies me more while it enriches my coffers
I want to enjoy the splendor of being acknowledge a healer
And willingly give my blood and sanity to reach thus.

Monday, November 21, 2011

That Old Song

Mister spider one day asked why the dead surrounds me. So I said to this dark furry fellow, I told him ... "Long ago I heard a song whose rhyme and rhythm still fill me with dread. It was whistled from lips that earlier smiled so handsomely. That song! When I first heard it my innocence packed her bags and bid me adieu. When I heard it again my sanity choose filth and I did fall from grace just to get away from its maddening chymes. And then I thought I heard it again, Mister Spider, that song, and maybe I did hear, briefly. Know what I did? I nigh near lost it. That song got in me head and haunted me for months on end before fading away but not before bodies were left behind. And now ... Now me love ... Now I have heard it again. No love no. Are you whistling? Are you making melody? Have no fear. No it lingers in the wind. But it don't control me. No. That handsome grin ... No ... See these tears? They dry ... And so Mister Spider, that don't answer your question but ... But maybe one day when you fully find out why you will remember me telling you this and maybe .. Maybe you'll understand why." And after I finished the tale Mister Spider gave me such a look and went back to being what he was - a lifeless avatar hanging from my wall, his spirit gone back to where ever it goes when he leaves me. I am alone.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011


Flesh wires carry bad decisions across end plates driving forward actions leading to the unexpected start of everything grand and disturbed. You cornered me like a confused lamb thinking a wolf its mother, and I did pounce. Honey thing you were - sweet and pure reacting like a timid deer making my murderous desires swell. But you ...That smile! Shaped by the distorted denizen in your mind - it spirals and hypnotizes. Flashes of solar radiation off your tricky pointed teeth prevented me from seeing you when you ... Here I thought I was the dagger piercing your side, drinking your essence, killing you; but you revealed yourself to be that dark creature destined to suck the marrow from my bones. This is all so wonderfully disturbed.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Loup Garou

I fell in love with madam moon and when she kissed me I became a Loup Garou. Joyfully I padded through streets liberated and free leaving beautiful carnage in my path. Blood flowed and tasted sweet. Screams were like laughter, howls like cries of joy. But joy and darkness never last. When dawn did crack I found myself again - a naked and barefooted wretched thing full of pain and lacking in magic. Madam moon's luminous gaze was turned elsewhere as she fled in the fleeting carpet of night from dawn's bright harshness. Alone I walked through my destruction, love sick and vulnerable to the victims I made.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Reflection on CHange

Fractal patterns through my mind of easy to come by thoughts and beliefs. I want to be that notorious stigmatized thing; but in the truth I'm not. Letting go of the old means being chopped to pieces by dull blades in painfully slow fashion. Agonizing screams echo through the cluttered halls of my mind during the process. Shivering from the pain and weighed by thoughts - rebirth is most terrible but most necessary to continue forward. You do it alone. Expect no support or understanding. Misery is the price for letting go of your animal instincts, your robotic programming, and becoming an entity of its own right ... Until programming weighs you down again and rebirth wickedly calls from the shadows of newness.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Toro Bravos

The scene starts in the Spanish desert. Our heroine lay intoxicated under the shadow of a bull that is not a bull. Earlier she did meet a man - a vagabond on the desert trails to small obscure towns hidden in the red dust and thirsty scrub. Seeking company in the lonely, she found her mind wiled by his wily ways, and mulled into thinking perhaps this dust covered one was more than appearances let seem. IN the heat of a starlit night under the influence of droughts of fire, things revealed themselves to be as they are and come morning strangers parted, their roles instead filled by amorous curious souls. So how did our heroine end up in her precarious state? Gods sometimes walk the earth as men; sometimes hide amongst the mortals; sometimes lust for earthly form; and sometimes are surprised by what is thrown in their path by the fates, a power greater than their own. So our heroine's precarious state is not real, just symbolic of the situation she found herself placed - under the affection eye of a god hidden in the flesh of a man.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Revision of an Invocation

How dare you call me from the shadows! Do you know what I am? That ancient thing that dwells in the primordial heat. Will you worship me? This dark power? Can you freely owe allegiance to something so dank and deadly, earthy and demented. I am mad! My poor mortal, I am mad. And you are delicious … Oh how you persist! Will you then let me feed from your soul? Millennia in forgotten hollows, I thirsted for blood, for bone, for screams. Fed by only dust instead, my hunger inflamed. In this prison I didst reminisce of past sacrifices to my name and the doom of civilizations fallen to my hunger. And thus I need … You …Your blood, your desires, your life. Do you think I could ever cherish your mortal soul enough not to take it from you? Do you think I possess such self control? Free me and I will destroy you but not before such pleasures … You will blissfully die and I will dwindle again until I exist no more, as it was foretold so very long ago. My time has past, but you shall help me remember, if only for an ember’s moment.


The tongue slips and words are spoken. The tired mind writes, types things meant left unsaid. Pathways into the unknown open. Whether through careless or fearless or an unconscious mind protesting restraint, somehow didst this accident occur. Mad to be kept at bay those emotional hounds brayed at my heels wanting freedom. Now free the world is quietly changed - the dam’s burst but that which trickled out cannot be seen with naked eyes attached to cloudy minds. What shall the recourse of these accidental actions be when one looks back to this moment during a weakness of long reflection? Pray there be no sign of regret’s hunt as emotional hounds stalk lonely forests for prey or a way home.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Fish Friday with my Friends

The sky did that cause I was full of love. Beams of light shot from clouds, sherbert orange like a sepia retro rainbow. On that boat ride into the night surrounded by the warmth of companions, the sun angered to miss out shot out such beams in protest. Love love love. I am in love. Love love love, so weird, and queer, and wonderful. We pulled up on dark shores to a carnival of aquatic delights. Swarthed in savory fumes we did explore the narrow corners full of beasties and their thralls. Laughter we emitted from mirth and joy. Clinging to each other we ate, we sang, we didst hug. Later curled up in shadows as plankton glowed and flying fish flew up to the moon, we shared warmth and sighed for the night to never end. But it did and back to our corners we went.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

That which dwells in my soul

I've been having some crazy dreams since midterms have come around. The stress of intense study and the anxiety. Also the loneliness and longing in my soul and revelations about who and what I am. When I sleep, such things come to my mind and I wonder about what I am. Sometimes I think of myself as the shaman or a wild feminine force. The reputation I have on campus is one of reverence and distance to my dark and wily ways. I could care less. And thus my poetic centres are stimulated and my desires are out of control but unsatisfied; for the best though ... All for the best. I hurt and destroy. So instead I write this:

How dare you call me forth from the shadows and hollows! Don’t you know what I am? I am that ancient thing that dwells in the wickedness of man. Will you worship this dark power? Can you freely owe allegiance to something so dank and deadly, earthy and demented. I am mad! My poor delicious mortal, oh how you persist. Will you then let me feed from your soul? I’m thirsty from millennia of denial and missing the blood, the bone, the screams. In this prison I reminisced of past sacrifices in my name … To my bloodlust. I need … I need you …Your blood, your life, your desire. Do you think I will not take you? Do you think I possess such self control? Poor mortal. Free me and I will destroy you but not before such pleasures … You will blissfully die and I will dwindle again until I exist no more, as it was foretold so very long ago.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Saving the Kid Part 1

Why did we ever have to go and save that’ kid? They never told me why he was important enough to risk one’s life over. Just seemed like a waste of space – a crying, pissing, shitting waste of space. What’s the point of rescuing something like that?

Flared bullets raced at us as we drove our beat up scrap of a car towards the compound. They penetrated the hull of the vehicle enrupting in miniture red light shows leaving behind melted and scorched metal. One managed to hit the ratty seat besides me. The cushion sunk in a bit and began to stink of rancid melted chemicals. I remember glancing at Petros with a screwed up face, trying to convey my disapproval.

“You’ll understand once we get the kid. Have faith.”


Ten years of roughing it in the Dunes with that guy. Shit. He was the son of crazy missionaries preaching some serpant god’s word to the “flock” as they called us. Their god did not spare them from the Chem Fog Crisis. Guess they didn’t preach hard enough. Their demise gave Petros a critical mind that I could rely on. For him to put himself at risk like this for some stupid kid is something maybe he would do if his parents would have lived; but the Petros I knew, he didn’t take stinking risks like this based on something unreliable like faith. Faith got his parents killed.

“Petros have you gone mad!?” I wanted to jump up front to him and shake him around. Clearly he had lost it.


“Don’t worry man,” croned out a suave voice from behind Petro’s seat.

Don Carlo. Where Petros was rational to the point of sacrilege and ideological destruction (Did the words “faith” really just leave his lips just now?), Don Carlo was pure unchanneled creative insanity. Oh he may be silent and brooding most of the time, but that’s his version of self control. If he were to let go, truly truly let go, desruction would greet the world, violently rape it, and then send it flowers the next morning with a long love note attached asking for a second date with more of that sweet loving violent rape. Twisted. I could not trust Don Carlo as he would roll along with madness. He was grinning at me now because he knew Petros used the word “faith”. He was loving this, this whole mad excursion - violent rape with loving. I felt a little unwell at that thought.

A car racing beside us had its tires shot out by Don Carlo. The car flipped and landed with the loud sound of crunched metal and glass breaking. Judging by the agonized shrieking howl I heard as we raced past the wreck, the driver must have survived, albeit horribly. Don Carlo was grinning harder now. I wonder if he planned it that way, the homicidal genius he was. He was not merciful; no, he just loved hideously scarring people.

A rocket exploded next to the car before I could say anything more. It sprayed us with searing hot air and shrapnel and pushed the car out of control.

Crazy Darla was at the wheel . She got serious in an instant, fighting with the wheel and the destructive terrain in our path to maintain control. She slammed the brakes and we skidded around a gaping hole in the road infront of us, before gunning the gas again and plowing us through some small wrecks of cars and off the side of a ramp onto safer side streets. It was brilliant driving but it left me screaming and my head a brilliant mess.
I knew Crazy Darla was going along with Petros because this was what she lived for – driving machines through mad situations. Didn’t matter if it were a horse, a jet, a cobbled together piece of crap like what we were in now; she just had a knack for these things - a savant at driving and riding. She hardly ever talked about her past, and bore a robotic false leg and a missing right ear which she kept covered by the “ear” equivalent of an eyepatch – both from a mysterious accident from long ago from something she could not expertly operate. Don Carlos imagines it was a man, but then he is a pervert when he opens his mouth sometimes.

In the seat in front of me Bleep flashed his helmet lights to alert us all he was about to get serious too. He strapped himself down nice and tight to the seat, pulled out Lil Lady and loaded it with high grade explosive rounds. Each explosive pull of the trigger would rock the car and send Bleep bouncing around into Don Carlo despite being restrained. It was insane to fire a weapon like that in this rust heap at this speed, but Bleep understood the danger inherent in this situation and him and Crazy Darla had a silent understanding when it came to her driving and his crazy weapons.

As for the understanding between Bleep and Petros, I could not figure out. Why would Bleep go along with Petros on this mission to save this kid? Bleep was smart, calculating. He knew risks and acted accordingly. Having a conversation with Bleep was like having a conversation with a blender. He had his helmet flashes that let us know whether he was going to start blowing things up, or if he needed first aid, or whtever else; but lights just aint like flapping one’s tongue. No one knew what the hell he was underneath his helmet and synth suit, but I always felt safe having him around the few times I worked with him. I wondered how much Petros was paying him, and I wondered what would make Bleep so desperate for pay to accept going on such a mad mission like this? Surgery for the possible hideous mess underneath his armour perhaps? Heh. Maybe he wanted to look fresh for Crazy Darla … Or Don Carlo. Hell who knew what he liked.

I sat alone at the very back of the car, which was converted into seats. Surviving had always been my motto up until a few years ago when it suddenly became profitable to risk one’s life for others and survive. Petros got me here because everyone agreed to this mission. I admit at the time I had no idea how serious it was or even what the real objective was, and Petros knew that. He knew me all too well. All I heard was that Bleep, Crazy Darla, and Don Carlos were in on it, so I was definitely there too. A team up like that seemed perfect and seemed like one where I would definitely come back alive. It also seemed like it would be an interesting challenge with so much talented mercenaries in on it and Petros leading. High stakes usually meant lots of cash. I will also admit, Petros had this way to him that made me follow him. NO not like a sucker, but just I could trust him. Following his lead has kept me alive. I felt that trust shatter when “faith” left his mouth. Insane and I was a fool for not asking what the hell we were getting into and being too damned addicted to this sort of stuff. But everyone did not seem to have a problem. Yea Petros got us all by the allure of a challenge in our respective areas of destructiveness. If they knew Petros like I knew him, they would know they were dealing with someone off the deep end.


Don Carlos knew but, yea as established, the crazy fucker wasn’t telling and loving it.

Crazy Darla whipped around a turn too fast trying to avoid a rocket. The car teetered on one side and another rocket hit nearby causing it to tip. Not even Crazy Darla’s expert driving could prevent the car from flipping, and flip we did. It was just too hot an area and too weak a machine. I saw Petros crash through the shattered front windshield. He went flying from the car and landed in a heap as the world spun in front of my eyes. The car flipped right into a wall with a sickening crunch. Being in the very back saved my life. My vision was still spinning and my head was foggy. Somehow Petros was up and limping with a few scratches on him. I saw him make his way toward me and the rage snapped me out of my funk. He grabbed my hand and I shakingly climbed out the wreckage. I wanted to be angry at him, but the car had caught fire and we needed to get the rest of the team out of the wreck.

Bleep was slumped forward, his harnesses slightly ripped. Don Carlos was bleeding from a head wound as he hadnt been strapped down that well and must have hit something. Petros helped me cut them out of their restraints and we pulled them from the wreckage. There was nothing to be done for Crazy Darla. Her beautiful face was smashed into the dashboard, brains everywhere. That made me so angry at the waste. Crazy Darla … I really liked her, especially since she was the only other female on the team. There was no time to mourn. The fire was getting intense and we had to move. Any moment that rust heap would blow so I went back and grabbed some of Bleep’s weapons; and Petros and I grabbed the still unconcious Don Carlos and Bleep and we hauled tail behind some buildings. We just got to safety when the car blew. It was spectcular as the bombs I couldn’t grab from Bleeps weapons stash ignited and went up with the car. I remember it always as a fitting funeral pyre to one maverick femme.

But I was angry and it was safe to be angry now. I grabbed Petros by his mangled arms and screamed at him. I don’t remember what I said, just angry foul words and lots of spit. I then punched him in the face, trembling all over with rage and the like. I wanted to continue being angry at him but my hand was sore and and his nose was bloodied. I didn’t want to damage him, and I could so easily do so; besides it still wasn’t safe to be completely enraged with him. The exploding car, which was still exploding at that point, was a shining beacon for letting the goons know our position. Petros merely grunted when I gave him a hardened look and we dragged Bleep and Don Carlo into a nearby sewer opening. That was part of the plan anyway - get as close as possible to the compound where the hostage was being held and then head to the sewers – dangerous place but not for a bunch of hardened mercenaries like ourselves.

To be continued

Some poems

I Sleep

I sleep and I wake thinking of you
Smile on my face thinking of your smile
Heavy eyes peering inwards
I see you, I love you, I cry
The threat of distance
Recoils my touch I want to know
Dear future what do you hold

When I wake I think of you
I feel that ghostly hand
Of your lingering touch
From many moons ago, from last night
Imprints of kisses given in secret
I touch scars of adoration
Etched in my flesh and soul
They itch pleasure
I want ... you ...

In the early hours I awake
I ponder thoughts you gave me
I laugh at the memory of you
For a while I dwell in scenarios
Of fantastic flights of fancy
I press rewind
I relive the past, I live a future
That never will be but probably could

I arise in the morning and think of you
Sunlight blinds me and I know
At this moment in your dreams
I haunt you
And later when you awake
You'll know I was there with you
For a moment, a presence by your side
A sweet something
For a moment ...

I go back to sleep



I awake in the dawn's dreary light
Blink away solid sleep in my eyes to see
The nightmare is the same, the darkness is just behind my eyelids.
Birds chirp sickeningly sweet migraine songs
Brine on the breeze smelling of decaying sea things.
My stomach churns.
The stark sunshine bearing down on me upsets my mind.
I swirl, I faint, I heave into the green grass of paradise.

Eden is haunted by my stalker
The boogeyman drives by slowly, peering over my prone form, prick in hand, foulness dripping.
My throat burns from the abuse. A void opens up inside me

I go to work, to school, I try to function in the great lie
I smile to others while shrieking inside my fractured mind
I’m terrified of you all!
Monsters grin at me admiring their handiwork

I kiss lovers with lips stained with acid,
My fickle fucked heart cruelly slays them with an axe.
At nightfall my blood stained face surrenders to the blackness that’s behind my eyelids.
The cries are hushed.
I whisper “Goodnight Mister Moon. Goodnight.”

And hope tomorrow I awake in another world