I Do Not ForgetThe Blood of the Innocent
Run thick on these streets
And the screams will never fade.
I can feel them, the sweat and suffering,
The scrabbling of Black hands,
The heat of survival upon which
This land was built.
The hand of the guilty will never be clean,
And the hands of the descendants will carry the stain.
You, the guilty, have wiped the minds
Of an entire race.
You refuse to remember, and remember to refuse.
But I do not forget.
And I do not forgive easily.
The Old Man's Story
His face was an archive,
Years and years
Of thrills and delights
And stories to be told.
His eyes showed the journeys,
From the far corners of his eye
To the middle of his nose
And the stars would twinkle
As if the eyes had seen them bare.
His nose was a ship,
Proud and upwards, facing the sea
Unafraid of diving into the unknown
His mouth held a permanent smile
Full of private jokes and not so private ones
The story of life on the tip of his tongue.
He was a very old man indeed.
The Walk on Bones
The crunch of bones rang in my ear
As I made my way to sweet and lonely death.
The blood in my hand is too much to fear,
But it’s over now, to bed, to bed
I’m guilty in sight and guilty of faith,
On my head a thorny wreath.
But now, thank God, I make my way,
To a sweet and utterly lonely death.
I could cry and hope, pray and plead,
Make the gods see sense with time.
But the blood on my hands is far from freed,
My bloody hands, full of crime.
So I pack my bags and close the doors,
Smile and nod at those who fell.
And walk with pride on the dead man's bones,
To death now, to bed, to bed.
The Monsters Inside of MeIt broke. It broke free. The shackles that had held it captive now lie useless on the ground, broken and beaten. Freed once again, it stands, flexing its muscles and cracking its bones. I can smell its rancid breath and its unbridled malice emanating from its ash black body. It looks up, towards the black sky as lightning streaks across the tremulous storm gathering dangerously above. A deep draw of fresh air and a dominating feral roar follows, unleashed from the dark belly of this beast. The roar, full of power and unshackled ferocity, passes through me, chilling me to the bone. All the hairs of my body stand on end, wide-eyed and electrified. I look towards this monstrosity and I can see his teeth bared in a smile brimming with enjoyment. It is savoring this moment, the moment before the kill. It turns its head downwards, looking towards me.
“Hello old friend”
Its voice reverbs and echoes, once again coming from deep within its dark belly. Its voice rings in
A Discrete Flavor Ch. 1I was standing behind a tree, struggling to keep my eyes open. Last night, me and a couple of friends decided to get wasted on my birthday. Right now, it didn't seem worth it, see as all we did today was mope and whine about how horrible we felt. I don't even remember what happened. That'll teach us to do that before a gig. Anyway, did I mention it was cold outside? All I was wearing to keep me warm was a leather jacket which wasn't enough.
"Jamie, you can't go to sleep yet, were on a gig," The Computer Guy said, "You too, Jack."
"I'm not asleep," I said, "I'm just resting my eyes."
"You don't believe me, do you? It's too cold out to sleep. Besides, we couldn't of gotten that far ahead of the truck."
"What about you, Jack?"
I opened my eyes when he didn't respond. He was leaned up against another tree with his head down. I picked up a stick to wake him from a distance. He grabbed with both hands and broke it. After a couple of blinks he c