Hentan House – Welcome

HARLEY HOLLAND

Sunlight rippled overhead in long shimmering streaks as my head bobbed up. No. It was not my head. I was tethered to a weighted body. We floated in the warming water until inky blotches of blood spurted out from between our legs. Clouding the sunlight I felt the water breach. Wrenching inward it gripped my feet and sucked me out. Out into the murky waters where cannonballs of people splashed deep to join me. Scrambling in their dozens they all reached out as if to catch me. Claim me for themselves. But I floated on simply watching. Waiting for the large eye permeating through the deep to see me. It wriggled for a moment, irked by my discovery of it. Were you happy to see me? Very soon I would have to breathe. Breathe and drink deep.

A mix of vinegar and bleach tickled my nose before wrenching me up…

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Smartly dressed violence (part xv)

Click here for previous entries


The city sprawled out across the bay which curved round like a crab. The huge gleaming skyscrapers rose high, dotted across the expanse looking like giant teeth from out to sea. The city was indebted to the ocean, growing out of its natural harbour and becoming a gateway to this part of the country. In recent years the city had begun to creep out ever further into the bay, huge complexes which dug down deep into the shaky sandy ground under the waves.

Atone industries was no different, with facilities on the west side and also underneath the central CBD; leaving their development centres to be on the coastline, a hybrid of industry and futuristic posturing with their sleek designs and innovative constructions. For Aiko, size was everything, and his properties were known to be the tallest points in the city. He would boast some of the best views of the ocean from atop his giant towers, the looming monoliths sporting his name for all to see.

It was these towering structures that Aiko hoped would be the key to his planned ‘modification’ for the city. The height and change in pressure allowed the magical elements to react better in the thinner atmosphere. This gave him the opportunity to hide in plain sight, stationing his machines at the summit of these towers that lay in the heart of the city.

The Order had known what Aiko was planning for some time. That change in the Altered had begun some time ago, the fabric shifting and fraying the further along he seemed to be going. They also knew from their sources inside Atone industries and the hidden world of magic that something was being prepared. In many ways it was a battle of good versus evil, but at the root of the war; they shared the same goal. They both wanted to use the magic and essence of the Altered as a great equaliser, to eradicate the level of us and them from society. Too long had there been a great discrepancy between those with and without S.I.N.

With the help of their sources, The Order had been able to monitor Aiko’s plans for the city. His ‘alteration’ machines had been developed to be placed at the top of two towers, for maximum coverage. With his accumulated maligned source of essence, he planned to release this over the city where it would converge with the particles in the air and be drawn into each person’s cells. Those below who lived in the city. No one was safe as these particle attractions had been manipulated to be drawn to human tissue. It did not discriminate. Upon release, with the correct incantation, which would be broadcast throughout the cities C&M (Chipped and marker) system, which all citizen by law were made to have; the essence would begin its evolutional thrust.

What Aiko failed to know, was that the magic of the essence would not follow his planned selection process. The Order had learned that on the levels in use for the whole city, they would change the mutation of essence, as the incantation they knew he planned to use had a sub-verse within the text. In simple terms, it operated on a ‘one for all’ method, in that, it would power the essence to the overall rate of change. Aiko wanted to select a middle range of survivors, an age group outside himself that he believed were the best and fitting for his new utopia. His plans would not follow this rule and would override to modify everyone at the same rate. Like Pandora, what he would release could not be controlled.

Fortunately, The Order had been working on their own variant form of essence. They had developed something which worked in-tune with the Altered, on the same principles that Aiko had in mind. The difference being that theirs had to work from the Altered, through a conduit that could control and defuse the rate of power being unleashed.

Jess looked at Levon as Karen finished talking. She cocked her head to the side.

“So, you are our saviour then I’m guessing Mr Messiah?” Jess said, understanding now what was planned. Levon grinned and extended his hand, king like; jokingly suggesting she kiss it.

“I prefer the term superhero.” Levon replied, grinning.

“Come on, be serious both of you. This is important, and we have no time to loose. Aiko has already re-located his staff to his Het and Bet facilities under the city. That means they have entered the final phase.” Karen said. She handed Jess a small glass bottle in the shape of a cross that she had taken from the cabinet.

“How long do you think?” Jess asked.

“The intelligence suggest tomorrow night is when he plans to turn on the machines.” Levon said.

“Wow. Then, we need to get moving. What’s this for?” Jess asked, holding the bottle.

“This is a sample of what Aiko has developed, the maligned essence. You’ll need this to open up the Pandora machines, their elemental readers will only operate if its sequence is detected.” Karen said.

“Will one be enough?” Jess asked.

“I’ve got the other.” Levon said, shaking a little bottle also.

“So how are you going to be in the Altered also?” Jess asked, not quite clear on the plan.

“You will be meeting someone who will help you, Levon will take you there. All will be explained. I will handle things from here, this place is more than just a church or science lab you know” Karen said.

“Okay, so let’s go.” Jess said, making her way back towards the door they came through.

“There’s a quicker way, follow me.” Levon said, making his way around the corner of the room where a huge glass box stood, touching the roof of the tomb. Jess followed him and watched as he scanned his arm across a reader by the glass. It changed colour to green and the stones behind it moved backwards. Beneath the floor a small hover cart moved upwards until it was docked in place. The glass slid down, the cart hovered there at knee height.

“Jump in.” Levon said.

“Transport too?” Jess said, hopping into one of the seats.

“Of course, the popemobile silly.” Levon replied, jumping in next to her. He swiped the dashboard and the glass returned to the room and they were lowered down onto magnetic tracks. A casing came up over their heads, making it indeed look like the popemobile from days of old.

“Hold tight.” Levon said as they were suddenly propelled off into the tunnel before them.


 

Nous savions toujours

Peel away this faded grey.
The looming nightmare that hovers on my lips.
Like a poisoned kiss.
These eyes will open, and will always remember.
Screaming gravities that moved through us.
You wanted to see it all for yourself.
The dawning, a reforming of what was left to offer.
A thing moulded deep in the stomach of god.
Once called love.
Now twinkling like a Christmas star above us.
Stripped and salvaged from its tattered abandonment.
Where we found it, flat on the ground.
Walked over and left for dead.
Keep it now, safe and captured.
Like a flightless bird on the verge of extinction.
It fell from grace, our love; but now moves into place.
Filling the gaps that understanding failed to fill.
No dream.
Just the darkness caving in.

Chrysalis

Soans Rezones

”I am done with you, I am through. I cannot continue to live here and pretend to be in love with you. You are plain, and boring. I am leaving you.” The words flew like hot lava and singed her to the core. More lava flew her way but she did not feel any of it; all that she could blurt out was, “But I am madly in love with you.” “Love! Huh! It is not love; it is madness. You are obsessed. You are mad, a borderline.” saying this he lifted his suitcase and left.
“Borderline! Borderline!” That one thing stung like a scorpion and scorched her soul. So, her love, devotion, and nurture were a disorder, a madness. She was numbed by the allegation or was it a declaration? All thirty-eight years of her life flashed before her. Yes, there was no denying. She had been a borderline…

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Choking the pig

They all suggested each other, but in the end; the least strong eventually stepped forward. Weedy arms ready on a meek and feeble frame. He licked his lips and carefully navigated across the slippery mud.
The sun was still up, but wouldn’t be for much longer. They had to be quick. Only last week the pig had gotten caught in some barb wire. Around its back leg the wire dug deep into the pink flesh and it had squalled and screamed for hours as the spikes penetrated and scrapped at its trotter. The blood had dripped down its leg and pooled, mixing into the wet mud creating a pungent molasses.

It had not recovered well, and the other animals had kept their distance since. Though it had not long ago suckled at its mother’s teat, it was now time to end its life. He picked up the knife preparing to cut its throat in one quick single flash, but as he got closer his expression changed; he suddenly leapt forward and grabbed the pig from behind, throttling it. Choking off its air. It bucked and whined, flailing around hoping for something to help it. A divine hand to lift it free, to save it from its untimely end. He squeezed with glee, his own eyes popping like the pigs; craving for time to stand still while he devoured his enjoyment.


At eight o’clock they sat around the table. Opulent dining hours for such lowly classed souls. The clock in the hallway chimed the hour, shaking off the ghosts which had collected in the silence. Someone dusted grace off their tongue as the meat dripped off their plates. The room hung with the air of cooked meat and revulsion.

Although hungry, no-one ate. They all looked at him.

And he started to cry.


 

Shabbily dressed violence

There is a delay this week for the new Smartly dressed violence entry. The next installment will be the 11/07. Until then, feel free to remind yourself of the story so far: 


I

The sun had stopped shining now, the wind that had blown in from the east seemingly extinguished the light like a dying candle struggling to survive. The day was young still, yet the streets were empty. People at work, kids in school. The ordinary pluck of the strings of life vibrated through the city. Heavy now with silence, it weighted on his shoulders as he rounded a bend and dived down a graffitied lane, sneaking inside a side door. He carried a small brown paper bag, but its contents; like people, were more precious than the coverings……

Click here for the whole saga up to now

Till death do us part

From the beginning, it should have been known.
In throwing out reasoning and line jumping.
Of crossing over to yours.
Your place or mine?
Rub out the sky then.
Directing into a throb of tomorrow.
The taxi counting down, ready to lift off.
Into the dark with its counter running like tears.
The room consumed.
Bruising us both with it’s filthy obfuscated fingers.
The night pulled into the future.
Concreting us both into something.
After lust and trust is lost, all that is left is conversation.
That moments that folded away into insane separation.
I look to the scars that flicker in my mind.
The hollowed parts of our love.
Empty like the bones of intimacy.
I realise, after all this time.
I used to want to love you.
Now I only want you in death, parted.

Cascade

This talk of syncretic rhythm.
Finds me cowering under the pillows.
Filling up my ears with atoms and ghosts.
It rocks me into unsteadiness.
These thoughts you conjure.
They always hurt me.
Your words are like weapons, sometimes they cut too deep.
Your blitz came and went, leaving my cathedral of love intact.
Yet surrounded by the smoke and dead souls.
At least it remains standing.
It sings out a lullaby in its bells, and lights the candles within.
Like glowing eyes of the dead inside.
My sky machine is set to 7, stars cascade like a celestial waterfall.
Blood on the rocks, bodies in the water.
Drowning in the dirty Milky Way.
If you lick my skin, you will not taste milk and honey.
If you bite my flesh, all you will see is bone and the cartilage of sorrow.
The blood drool of your passion, a butchers banquet.
The smell of revenge in the air sends you up again.
Higher, over the moon and into my bed.
Into my head.
Ripping apart my lonely grey.
Making my eyes dazzle gold like a bruised sun.
As I crawl back once more to the sea.

Sinners in church

All I feel, is the blood underneath.
The red torrent that flows the same.
In a look that turns away.
Reaffirms the shame.
Can we be sinners if inside all is pure?
Skin and bone, flesh from him.
Bread that sticks in my throat.
We are sinners in the house of mother earth.
We are angels beneath the floors of hell.
These tears that fell when the walls collapsed,
and the shadows were expelled.
Are the isotopes of god, realigning in our cells.
So this sin, I am thankful of.
A difference from the past, pulled from Neolithic teeth.
We are sinners and miscreants, all the same under the eyes,
of the blind divine .
Which in turn, makes us holy.

Hentan House: Chapter 1

HARLEY HOLLAND

A knot gathered in my throat. It held me there motionless as my eyes bulged with an intense heat. Threatening to burst all I saw was my body hover over the cobbled ground. All I felt was cloth and rope. I had been hung. But it wasn’t me. No. I was somewhere else in a car. This was another person and I was merely inside. Shallow enough to feel just an echo of the throbbing violent pain. A passerby watching, with chin tucked to chest, as urine sprayed out across the rocks. A great shift and I felt myself slipping through the folds of skin. Falling out. My vision covered in a wet red and purple smear until light breached and I was free. Ejected, I looked up at the hung woman I was once inside. I knew those swollen blue eyes were vacant, but the feeling of her watching…

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A Place to burn

The walls tumbled, loudly into the ocean.
Crashing the coast further.
Only a power in goodbye remains.
Disturbing the ground beneath.
Does that tremor reach your heart.
Displace the cells or the spirit higher?
This collapse into hiding.
A running away, to provoke a pain.
Or to remedy a hurt.
Travels in whispers, and lands in stone.
Freedom welcomes an honest heart.
Breaking spells which have bound this space.
A broken heart consumes itself in delicious dreams.
That there may be something else to try.

Smartly Dressed Violence (Part xiii)

Click here for previous entries


Aiko Tsutsumi was not an evil man, he himself didn’t even class himself as particularly mean. He was direct and calculated, practical and realistic. He knew how people perceived him though, and sometimes relished those times where people were intimidated by him. His anger and contempt over the years had been funneled into a vindication that best suited himself. Living well is the best revenge after all. And Aiko lived very well. His empire that sprawled throughout the region and touched nearly everyone’s life. Being rich was part of that, but he also had control. He had felt a turning though through his stages of vengeance. He let go to his notion of merely punishing those who had done him wrong, but moved his sights to a much larger spectrum.

He had been brought up in poverty and anguish, poisoned by the S.I.N which had run throughout his structure. This he hide from the world and he grew up lying and doing what he could to better his circumstance. Many could see this as admirable. But along the way the underdog turned into a more dangerous beast. Aiko found a way, much like those in The Order, that he was able to rid himself of the S.I.N by stepping into the altered. His search for change had led him down a darker more maligned root to the magic, and though incompatible at first, he had made his own sacrifices to get what he wanted and created his own demons. He had harnessed aspects of the magic which he brought out of the altered and fueled his technology and systematic growth of Atone-industries. He kept these secrets hidden well, for few knew of the power or the existence of the altered. He knew of The Order and what they were trying to achieve, and his mission now was to accomplish his plans first.

And those plans did not allow a second place result.

Scanning through the schematics of his plan labelled ‘EDEN’, Aiko familiarised himself with the logistics of the upcoming second phase. He knew there would be a fallout from this project, media relations played an important role in all his endeavours. But with any systematic change, there are always casualties. Aiko had developed a device which, much like Levon’s little bag of cleansing, would cleanse a huge population at the same time. The size of a city for example. He had manufactured a machine which increased the power and range of the magic and could distribute it across the city. The Order were indeed trying to do the same thing, but for Aiko; his objectives were different.

The Order planned to re-balance the scales, lifting everyone with S.I.N to an improved genetic place where all were equal and positively mutated to an evolved state of being. Aiko was more selective in his view of change. He had worked hard to rid himself of the taint of S.I.N, disgusted by both those who had kept him down, and equally those around him who had failed to do anything about their circumstance. He saw them as weak, lazy and deserving of their state. He planned to speed up the natural selection of evolution. His device, his Pandora’s Box, released an adjusted version of the magic, one which he had modified to purposely only enhance and select a middle range of people. Those with S.I.N who were too weak, or genetically feeble would of course be killed but so too were those in the age group of himself who had made his existence painful in his youth. A generation of bastards he could not forgive. Those, even without S.I.N too would be killed, leading to a superior group equally measured in abilities and evolved state.

Aiko now was too far removed of empathy to care for those who would not survive his plan. Those who had hurt him would get their comeuppance, and those too weak to try would be removed for the greater good. This second phase would begin shortly, activated from the West Side to heavily impact all of those that he deduced needed to change.

Naturally Aiko would be safe. He sat back now in his chair, happy and content that things were coming together. He had made arrangements of course, he wasn’t completely devoid of emotion to let his family perish either. He loathed them of course, but he had yet to turn that corner into cartoon villainy, and still retained that sense of connection, and on some level love, for them.

He pushed a button on his desk and the floating head of Stefan appeared before him, the hologram blurred with static.

“I have to leave for a day or so, I won’t be able to be contacted. Is everything in order?” Aiko asked. Stefan nodded agreeably.

“Yes sir, all is fine and on course as you’ve initiated. You’ve had some requests from the elected states to conference in tomorrow though, so I will have to re-arrange that.” Stefan replied.

“They are always asking for things.” Aiko replied.

“It seems they have concerns over the recent relocation of staff into the elevated sectors in the city.” Stefan said.

“I’d be surprised if they hadn’t. Remind them of the proposal I outlined to them previously and convey my apologies for missing the conference. I will get back to them when I can.” Aiko said, knowing he never would.

“Is there anything else you need from me today?” Stefan asked. Aiko paused a moment, looking at the disembodied head before him.

“Not now no.” Aiko said, leaving a small silence before adding “But if you know anyone in the west side, or that way inclined, you may wish to tell them to get out before tomorrow.” Aiko drew his hand across a sensor and Stefan’s head disappeared, leaving him alone again in the darkening room, as the sun was beginning to set over the city.


 

Mooncats – A Collection

Collaborations with the talented, startling & beautiful Nara15blog.


1

EFFULGENT CRUCIBLES IN THE NIGHT

In dimensions, twilight ash
And comets of agate blues,
Body language that gives away clues.
Hold the sun down, quietly untie these eyes.
Fill these lungs with a vividness of spirit metal petals

We — the crucibles of change,
Pillows of basalt.
Tiny remnants of dinosaur bones.
Suffering into existence.
The remains of relentless urges,
Floating in our eyes and
Flowing in our mouths.

Breathe and speak no more.
As the solar flowers bloom in our veins.
Suffocating these dreams into blue.
As magic spun stars speak to us in silence.
Alchemy—taking us to the end of time.


2

SOLAR CRADLE SOUL

Our burning photospheres
Once sprung forth to their highest peaks
The Sequoioideae of space, marveling at our lofty heights
Yet a ruin grows in our binary bark
Threatening such chaos and calamity
Inevitably to be pulled into a great nebulous stir
Overcome by the tug of war
Of fighting zodiacs and the duplicity of time
The catastrophic collapse swell into the blossomed nova waves
An ethereal outreach on god’s fingertips

As our space sediments
Brought by stellar winds
Found their way to this cooling valley
Where we rose to life
Spread about on vast lush pastures of complacency
Fertile like the Nile’s riverbed
That stream of thought
Wavering on the edge of existence
Counting the memories as they floated by like clouds
And we began to bottle up and measure time
But our greatest fiction yet was to
Forget our stardust aril souls

But now we feel the metals in our blood
The fetter of cosmonaut coins that rattle in our brain
And that endless acceleration of gravity
The only feeling we allow ourselves
Our whirling fire
The core essence to recall
Orbiting a repose and the quietening of quantum regret
Our sunspots
Imprints as a marriage had once been
A snapshot
Capturing our ultraviolet ascent

Now we wait to be lifted up
Coddled once more in that stellar nursery
Suckling the teat of Shiva
Covered in the interstellar yoke of change


3MOONCATS

The depths of space.
Cold and frozen like a liar’s tongue.
Decorated with imagination, and the Christmas lights of the Milky Way.
Like kings we travel across mountains, the time valleys and the soundless desert to offer the myrrh of our hearts.
Watching the world from up high above.
Metallic buckling and inclination set us down.
Dropped onto that dusty surface.
That sunken dark side of the moon.

A whirl and snap, a titter and tap.
The astral music of our future calls out across the dunes.
Feeling our subtle energies, ameliorate with the salt intake.
To deflect the dark interference, a vast endless shriek

In the indigo star mist they barely exist, through cells of the unknown.
A flight of fancy tickling their whiskers, as the mooncats rise, out of klexy carbonize ebony.
A night call that sounds all hours of the day, as the sun passes them by.
How their lives abide, stretched and multiplied by the gravity of circumstance.
They ceaselessly divagate in the nebulous noon-shine quest.
Tunnelling in the honeycomb of a starry satellite.

Beware the fringes of the universe and the edges of the rock.
For lunar moths will dance on their nose, and call them out to space.
A grave of diamond dust to mark where they had been.
Eclipse our minds with astral sulphur, and sing us to sleep with the haunting Egyptian sounds of the gods.
Bastet tiptoeing in your ear, while the mooncats purr.


4

BATTLING THE SUN

I found the king in my sour patch kids.
Summoning me to him.
Inch by inch.
The patchwork of truth beneath his sweet release.
Matted and mired in the threadbare trails of my existence.
All my thoughts encumbered into one, like the great shadow occulting the sun.
Moments before the light links to the dark.
I know the iconic gestalt will not escape my mind.
Now darker, as the black spirals into the white.
The nightingale consoles all the day’s dissonance.
While the chaffinch closes his eyes as he rushes the earth.
Which hand from which god reached into the heavens?
To blot out the sun and cover us with black oil.
Stuck down with feathers and falterings that overcome one another.
Reaching across each contour that shifts and shivers in our temporary aphotic zone.
Treading water with the creatures of the lunar deep.
Beholding the moonshadow through the trees.


5

GHOSTS

It splits my soul.
Dragged back towards these melancholy shores.
Running through the downpour of emotions and memories.
Slick and sticky.
Covering me completely.
The ghosts gather, licking their ectoplasmic lips.
Feasting on the flesh of a thousand mistakes.
The subtle beasts, stealing my lazy reveries.
They haunt me still.
Rumbling up and down these bones, while I shiver towards catatonic sunder.
The god shape hole is back-filled with the deeds of the devil.
A By-product of love maneuvers and binding selfishness.
Like evolution.
The toxic waste of time.
………………..
Oh El I, El I….
………………..
Sweet and short reprieve.
What libertine hope is haloed into these thought chests?
Where ghosts hold the keys and cover the locks.
They never had the power of speech, yet their words haunt and taunt me.
They know the reasons for these tears.
Smiling at the circumstance.
With a spectral hand they reach in and catch me off guard.
Talismans dropped and facing away from mecca.
They whistle my lingo, until I’m driven into solid black and white.
Kiss me over and over again, staining my broken lips with shame.
As I absorb the white noise.
The crackle and hisses coil.
A mountain of monsters merge into one.
All names fade away, into the pinhole of the shadow-less.


8

IN SEPTEMBER THE DEVIL COMES DANCING

Crinkled veins that litter the ground.
My smile carved like a pumpkin crescent.
Circling the moon.
Laying down for September’s kiss.
A spiced potion that thickens my eager Heart, bone felt and embraced.

Store bought and rhinestoned.
A mask for a hideaway.
A little glint under the eyes to shimmer.
In the cooling sun’s blaze.

Turning on a dime in a year’s sigh.
Tiptoeing back in time.
Last year, to rival such memories.
365. What a year to be alive!

Smelling the dying throes of summer.
As the trees feign death,
In the rustic cinnamon crunch.
Planting poison ivy to creep through my vines.

In a day’s ramble bramble.
Tomorrow, today. Witch way? This way.
On the broom off to do mischief.
Open the door for October’s devils.
Felling my rooted heart, awash with treacle.
Filling my soul with black stars.
These tar-like sediments like shock treats to my mind.
To make me dance manic eyed.

Howling at the orange fire moon.
Silver bulleted like a ghost through gloom.
In ebony tricks.
In a bubbly brew fix.
Rotting my teeth from the roots.


GOLDEN FRAGMENTS

GOLDEN FRAGMENTS

Measuring out my apathy, sieving out the soul.
Reduced.
My senses in a state of flux, spinning off into the unknown.
This world had trapped me for so long.
Kept hidden under the bed of existence.
Blocking out the light.
The wheat fields of my mind looked for the grains.
Tiny fragments that seeped in when all was dark.
Each one a world of its own, taking seed within my soul.
And now I shake, I quiver into the unknown; yet so familiar.

Wiping gems and the precious truths on my eyes and heart.
Feeling an inward rush of an amber glow, preceding this labored love.
For fear of only gleaning, a break in my skin.
I call upon Ceres deep within me.
She sends me slumbering with the sparkling antidote of hope.
Until the bountiful golden harvest rises from my old soul.
Creeping the vines up my chalky spine to my crown.
Tin foil turned in the alchemy of tears, to forever shine in gold.


7

DISLOCATING THE SENSES

Pulling the earth around us.
Cocooning our bodies away from the world.
One that talks with such momentum.
Being so perspicacious, yet knowing neither you nor I.
You start by talking around the problem.
Your mouth full of diamonds and your hands with a foreign tongue.

Audic, melodic, erotic…
On reverb, as you fuck me

Sweetin’ my mind
Wrap me in silver binds
Come on, we only have so much time

Turn me over
Pull me under
Upside down
Totaling in wonder

Fuse these moments, stop the clock.
These tectonic shifts within threaten such ruin.
Threaten such remorse.
The metronome of your heart pulverises my senses.
Destroying my reserves with each swing of your scent.
Dripping honey in my ear and forging silver from my sweat.
Touching what I cannot afford.

Oh, it’s so…
Audic, melodic, erotic
Caught in this sonic
Audic, melodic, erotic

On, reverb; the quickening of your heart
And the panting of my own.
My own ventricle velocity leaves me shaking.
Each swing of us of this pendulum together.
Sets my heart aflame chasing the tiger.
Down underneath; over, tumbling, cartwheeling.
Burning brighter, like the sun in your eyes.

Lick me
Swirls within me
Occipital joy,
Waves right through me
Caught in this sonic
Dancing to,
Audic, Melodic, Erotic

My heart returning to its habitual taciturnity.
Problem solved.


 

Smartly Dressed Violence (part xii)

Click here for previous entries


The first time it hurt, obviously. Pain is a relative thing though, and Jess had always seen herself as a strong person with a high pain threshold. Procedures as they go these days, with internal computer systems into the body and detailed mind graphing, they usually make those operations devoid of pain. But the eyes, those hurt like hell. Severing of optical nerves were quick, but the input modules that were meshed around the socket; those ached as they were attached.

Jess had first used the magic from the altered years ago, before the books and the written language were truly understood. She had come by a small sample of the green matter, acquired like many backdoor drug dealings, through a shady acquaintance. It had been poor quality, mixed and watered down; removing its potency. She was naïve then and knew little about how it was to be used. She was naïve, but desperate. Eager to change her own and families circumstance. It gave her nothing but a longing to know more, to understand all about the altered and what came back from there. Over the years she was able to source her own ‘companion’, a little book of altered magic to help use the matter. Spells was a silly word, but it was what they were; incantations, yet ones that worked at a cellular and genetic level. It is what many needed now in this inequitable societal system. Able to shift makeups and change circumstances.

Temporarily. As was the problem for Jess. Her body makeup was not aligned to accommodate the altered states. The magic, the matter; never stuck for her. As was true for many others. Their level of incorporation was never sustained. It took cleansers like Levon to manipulate the matter and reconstitute it with their own to make something that could be transferred to those needing it. To change them into ‘accepted’ humans once more.

Jess persevered with her knowledge and training in the mystical arts however, doing what she could to help. Seeking out those to her help her and change her circumstance. Coming across the likes if Levon, and now Karen, The Bishop.

She put her eyeballs into a small metal cylinder that she removed from her pocket, having taken a seat next to the desk; and tilted her head back a little. Karen moved closer, taking the stopper from the small vial and tipping the contents into each of her eye sockets. The liquid pooled abnormally, as if floating inside her skull before turning to a vapour in an instant and clinging to the insides of her sockets.

“It takes a few minutes, relax if you can.” Karen said. Jess laughed slightly.

“Yeah right.” She said. Levon stood watching the colours now emitting from her.

“This will open the gateway to the bridge to the altered. You may have seen this before, but now you’ll be able to move through the haze too, beyond the marker point.” Karen added.

Levon knew what she meant, with his trips to the altered he was able to move above the bridge, flying above with his own abilities that took him seamlessly into the other world. It was as if he was a resident of the altered, able to move back and forth with ease. Others could be tourists, temporally view and touch the world; but their travel there were laboured and hazardous. Karen was setting Jess up now to be able to view and touch this world; and with the right incantations, would be able to eventually transfer parts of herself through. The bridge was always the challenge for everyone. It took time. But it was needed if you were to truly change.

After a few moments, Karen indicated that Jess could put her eyes back in, which she did. She opened them up and blinked a few times.

“How does that feels?” Karen asked, genuine concern coating her words.

“Fine thanks, it tingles a little.” Jess replied.

“Just the matter taking hold. I’ll start the incantation and it will unlock the gateway. With that, Karen took her small book and found the page she was looking for. She began to read aloud some strange words, words both Levon and Jess had heard before, but in different states. The lights in the room began to dim and a luminous glow appeared beneath the eyes Jess had recently placed back. Karen took her finger and tabbed at the top of the vial which had contained the liquid, drawing a small symbol on Jess’s hand. Levon’s own symbols began to glow, and Jess suddenly pushed back in the chair.

“Ahh.” Was all that Jess could exclaim. She was thrown out of the room there under the church and transported through a mist to the beginning of the altered. She could hear Karen’s words ringing out but they sounded tinny, as if coming from inside a shell. She extended her arm, and the mist moved apart like a cloud. The air hung with little sparks of blue light, like electricity in vapour. As the mist moved she could see before her a huge stone circle, and beyond a stone bridge leading off into the unknown. It reminded her of  Japanese torii entrance-ways to shrines, the mystical and tantalising. She had only seen glimpses before, unable to move in the static. Now she could walk and move around. She moved towards the stone gateway, her heart beating to a hurried rhythm. As she approached she could see a smaller stone by the entrance. It was covered in the language she had tried desperately to learn over the years. Here the text melted, forming words now that she could understand and comprehend.

As she stood there she became aware of an encroaching shadow off in the distance behind her. Like a new weather front coming in. It seemed ominous and did not feel like it belonged here in this space. Everything she had ever known of the altered and its magic had always brought her warmth and comfort, this felt foreign and threatening to her. She turned away, towards the bridge now through the gateway. She tried to move her feet but it was then she felt a pulling, a tugging coming from inside her skull. It was then that she knew she was heading back, back to the crypt under the church. Like stepping out of a hot bath she returned back to the chair, Karen and Levon before her.

“How far did you get?” Levon asked her. She looked up excitedly.

“To the gateway, I could read the marker.”

“That’s good, the baptism seems to be dong its wonder.” Karen added. “Each time you’ll get further.” Jess looked concerned then.

“But it felt strange, there was a shadowy wall encroaching in on me. “ Jess said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve not known anything like that before.”

Karen and Levon looked at each other.

“Do you know what it is?” Jess asked, seeing their faces.

“Yep. And it comes back to your friend Mr Tsutsumi?” Levon said, walking over to wall and tapping the blueprints that were pinned to the board.


 

Portending

I have tasted from golden cups.
As the city around me fell.
In coloured eyes I saw the sea and the sky beneath me swell.
I have lived and be damned.
For the lost dreams like sand.
Slip through my fingers like Sunday afternoons.
Yet this example of perseverance.
Sticks, despite interference, from the voices all around.
With my notions of happiness.
Of everything, and virtue; still to be found.

Gave your ghost

This stillness suffocates.
Gasping for the scent of redemption.
We gave up a life for love.
A family for faith.
We’d trade it all to be back again.
Slowly moving in still frames, able to undo.
You pick your own ghost, holy or hallowed.
Watching over in these times of solitude.
Dead as the graveyard that occupies your mind.
There is no sound, only the wind.
Breathing through you like a howl of opportunity.
But the tombstones mark where your dreams are buried.
Long forgotten and eroding in time.
The view from the tree blurs as you swing.
Rotting strange fruit filters in.
You picture a younger self, a body waiting to be consumed.
Eager for that bark of acceptance to grow.
Yet truth peels.
Now you long to be alone with that former self.
For you never knew anyone who could love thee.

Glass

I buried your words in a glass in the garden.
Trapped them like fireflies in the twilight of this trying.
This break suffocates.
These shards scrape at my skin.
But I tucked them all in, away in the dirt.
Hoping they would remain.
That comforting lie.
A heart made of glass is easily shattered.
You step on the pieces, complain of the splinters.
Never once indestructible.
Then a thunder came and the rains fell.
Lightning struck as the storm of you raged on.
Turning my glass heart back to sand.
Reduced to grains of love, coarse and plentiful.
Yet now a shore only for my own sad sea.
A Lonely desert isle.
Hoping for a glass bottle of hope.
To once again wash ashore.