Ezekiel

Posted: April 10, 2015 in Short Story
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It can’t be me. My hand shakes as the voice booms in from somewhere. Feels like the voice comes from within me. It frightens me. It tells me things I shouldn’t know, don’t want to know, what can I do about it?! However, it still comes. Tells me to fill these blank pages with ink. I am unable to do anything else, but answer.

The moon shines in full and pregnant. It reflects the sunlight down into my dark bedroom. I dragged my heavy wooden desk across the floor to capture it. It’s whatever, energy, blew my lights, exploded my computer, and stopped my watch. I ware the watch for the weight and as a sign of remembrance. I forget how odd my life has become since it entered.

I am nothing special, never was. I don’t recycle, I don’t donate my time or my money, of course I don’t have any money. I work at a pizza shop and rent the smelly apartment right above it. It isn’t bad, a tiny one room and the owners family live next store. I thought this was perfect, simple. They don’t ask too much of me and I never ask for a raise. I have no car, no debt, and no savings. I merely exist, week to week, day to day.

Nothing special, no reason for this thing to have found me. Wondered here from some distant universe just to mess with my head. It messes with my head.

It’s coming. Like some small creature sensing a larger one prowling near by, I can feel it. It moves into my dark room with a pulse of static energy. I hear the floor boards and ceiling creek with its entry, yet it has no feet, no body, no voice; other than the one it uses inside me. I am not very imaginative either, nor unstable. To think I could imagine it. My hand is trembling. I know it’s real. It comes to me at odd times, but only when I am alone.

I remember now, one day I was hiking in the woods, filling my city lungs with clean air. Hoping it will last me until next time I get back to the mountains. I sensed it then. I think that was our introduction. The birds that were signing so feverishly stopped, the crickets steadied their legs and even the wind became still. But they didn’t run. That was my cue. If those birds and bugs took a sudden mass exodus I would be right on there tails or a few yards in front. But no one moved, they only became silent, as not to miss a second of this event.

The sun seemed so bright and blinding that day. It was as if it grew in the sky and glared white to the point in which I could no longer gaze up. Then it was gone. The birds and insects started their songs up and the wind continued to trim the trees and curve about the landscape. I thought nothing more.

Until the day it returned. Yes, Its bodiless odor tickled my nose as the hairs on my body stood up. The scent immediately reminded me of the wood and of that day. Although until now I never made that connection. It has power and is powerful. I believe if it wanted, it could use me like a marionette, but it doesn’t. It has some sort of code of conduct with us, us, listen to me. I speak for the human race now.

The wind has stopped blowing the curtains. The energy it gives off almost has a soft hum. I can feel it moving. I know it has no body, but I can sense where the center of the creature is. I turn in my chair dropping my blue pen. It ricochets off the wooden floor. I look to the window for fear the wind might blow my papers, but nothing now, nothing, but silence.

It’s in front of me; My eyes fail me, but the hairs on my arm do not. My skin is how I see it, my ability to sense is also how I see it, but my eyes, they might as well be shut. Although that might frighten me even more.

It is actually very kind in a way. Other than its presence. It would be like walking in the city if you were a 90 pound girl and a rough warn 6’6, 300 pound man starts walking towards you – if you had any subterfuge you’d be gone before he even knew you were there, but it’s too late. You don’t know the outcome, he just might need change or might be walking on by, the only thing your senses tell you are your survival rate if A or B or C comes to fruition.

I can’t even think of what A might be in my situation. I am not sure the motives of this creature, if it is a creature. I think all of the people that had ever had knowledge of it burned a long time ago. It speaks.

“We are ready.” It states. The voice is not mine. It is deep and sounds strong, finite. It is an odd feeling. Hearing something without the need for your ears. It feels like I am hearing it as if it is sitting across the room and we are chatting up the evening. Sometimes I forget I am physically alone and speak aloud to it. The owners of the shop have taken note.

It doesn’t give me soft, gentle, fluffy information. Instead it fills my head with darkness, of trials and tribulations ahead. Not for me personally, it offers nothing to me. No great future insight or words of wisdom (lottery ticket numbers), but it sees us as a whole. I am my species and it has something to say. So I write. I don’t go out anymore, even though the colorful city lights beckon and past lovers call. I wait nightly for the being to come to fill these pages. I wait no longer.

“We will end it tonight.” It warns. I am not sure what terrified me more, being responsible for these words trying to get them published or reentering the world. Like some sort of dragonfly larva I hatch back out into the same landscape but with a different view.

“The race of man, that shall suffer greatly, may survive if these words are heeded.”

I reach quickly for the pen and move to turn my chair, but to my surprise it turns on its own. It tucks me close to the desk and then moves the papers close to me at an angle, just the way I like it. I wet the pages.

This voice never has a tone of disapproval nor speak ill of us. It doesn’t tell us how to correct the wrongs we have done. It is more concerned with our survival. I wish I knew why, why waist…

“Those that live past tomorrow’s changes and the renewal’s growing pains shall behold a world full of life, food, and shelter for balanced generations to come.”

I sense a calmness in it as we finish. I had never sensed an emotion before, just its presence. It is filled with relief. I write these final words. My pen lies down next to the 3 inch thick manuscript beside it. My chair moves without my help. It pulls me away from the desk and spins me. I am facing the creature now. I feel the form move into my space, the tiniest of pressure upon my cheek, and it speaks.

“We thank you.” I feel an armless embrace and am filled with love. I feel weightless, almost giddy. It feels like, home, safe. It begins to move away and like a child being put down by their mother I reach up.

“Don’t.” I plead, almost beg. The tornado of pain writhes within. Bring the love back, it is a drug I can not exist without. I need it, I have to have it. Please!

It continues out. My love lost turns to anger. I am now hurt by this contract’s agreement. I have fulfilled my duty and written these words, and now I am thrown to the side. To live here in a world so distorted by opinions and frozen by truth told lies. I feel it move out the window. Silencing the pigeons as it floats away. I reach out the window with my arm as if to grasp the graspless. My watch begins to tick.

I cry aloud, “No!” letting go off all the pain these past few months have given me.

I wasn’t saying, no don’t leave me, or no come back, or no we’re not done, but to the entire book, no.

No! It was as if I was on autopilot when I was writing these words, and maybe after all I was. My emotions weren’t active, in fact they weren’t even on. Just now looking out at that beautiful moon and my city home I understood what was told to me. What is about to occur in split seconds to us all and not to far in the distant future. I will be alive to see this Renewal. I might not survive it. I rush the desk and grab the book. Its flimsy off white paper and my blue inked scratches. I hold it with contempt and slowly stretch my ticking watched arm out the window with book in hand.

I release my thumb, but the wind is still. I drop the book, but it does not fall. I sense something looking at me and I look up. I saw something I am still not sure what it could have been. It shook me. I trembled again, unable to look away and unable to stand. I fall on the floor grasping the sill to keep my eyes on it and I know it sees me. In fact that is the only reason it is peering into the snow-globe I exist in.

This is impossible to say. These images seem too archaic to me, but for the sensations that make it real. Peering into this world, as if to say “I see you” is a large eye. It broke through the clouds and has an eyelid and eyelashes. I think the color of the eye was blue green-ish, but the color moved like a reflected oil spill on water. The eye saw me and made me feel like an ant in an ant farm. Of course odd thoughts such as where is the rest of the body and what is really going on here? Crept and burned into my mind unpleasantly. The eye never blinked, but was locked on my movements as I reached out of the window and took hold of the manuscript and held it tight to my chest. It blinked. My room creaked and I could feel the presence reenter so I brashly turned away to see, nothing. I could sense it was back. I looked back to where the eye had appeared to see nothing. But knowing it was there and how tiny it made me feel, makes me wonder more, the things we don’t know and don’t understand will always far out way what we do.

I turned back to the present and sat on my bed, feeling like a shamed child caught in the unforgivable act of parental betrayal, I wept. I toppled over myself filled with shame, fear, and pain. Not pain for me, but the pain we are all about to go through. The loss my family will suffer, we all will suffer. The words turned into images in my mind as I wailed the moon into the sun. The presence never left me. I could sense it sitting next to me on my hard bed, rubbing my back, as my mother had a long time ago.

downloadHere I am
nothing great
walking by
hearing you sigh

you make me turn
We catch each other’s eye
my heart beats as it begins to menace
we finish each other sentence

then i continue to walk
cuz you’re nothing special
but I am one of a kind
don’t feel like wasting my time

enjoying men – who know what they want
not boys that are terrified of love
I’m exploring with another more equipped

knows exactly the placement of the clit
understands women can only cum
from that spot external
i found someone
that understands this simple already uncovered anatomical truth

while i enjoy my multiple orgasms
iii hope you’re having fun too
iii have no ill will towards you

i know this will sound petty
but you will see it for what it is
you are too afraid to live life
and i am too strong to deny myself any of it

like oil and water
we will never meet
but for that minute

actually – i can’t recall what I ever saw

that’s when you know its done
long after any moments of fun
when you can’t remember why you ever loved someone
you are free to have something real

Posted: June 10, 2014 in Uncategorized

Sometimes
Time offers a break
Respite
To our weary day

An evening of frolic And fun
Nothing expected
I wish this for everyone

No harm to anyone
Simplicity
In its grace

Peaceful play
Evenings warmth
Cobblestone street
Ghost off Jack ceoroack creeps

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And there lost beyond the grave

Crawling out of its shallow cave

Is a monster feared by most

Gross and disgusting it crawls into the coast

 

It wears its horrors on its flesh

Never burying its unwontedness

it owns its home

And cares not if it is left alone

 

Upon the sea it slowly bathes

Cleans the harshness of life away

This foul beast

That so many hate – Feel and believe it’s uncontrollably irate

Merely had a working mind

Like yours or mine

 

But it took it to that next level

Never self-projecting its own trouble

Instead wore it proudly

Demanding things change loudly

 

But the fear filled masses many

Concerned over profit = money

Turned away from the logic of his say

As it warned us of our behavior of the day

 

That we would cripple the seeds of tomorrow if we continued to stay

On this course of self-satisfaction today – Today – TODAY

 

The parents have crept into their children’s beds

Feed and fed until their very life force  is dead

As they belch their full they demand

We fall in line or receive reprimand

 

In line with what – I ask

our current self destructive task

 

To the generation of yester year

To the 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s and the millennium

You have done nothing worth doing

But what you have done was 100% ruining

 

You have done nothing to prevent

You have only solidified your children’s lament

 

So as the race of man died off one by one

Mutilated by industrialized food and the power of the sun

This beast called to gather everyone

To a place of survival with promises of future fun

But no instant gratification for anyone

 

But there was no plumbing or electricity in this cave

For survival is truly earned by the brave

The race of man has murdered and fed on its children

 

All but this one

 

This bruised and abused hated by everyone

This being will survive

but without another it will not thrive

 

Dear human race

Stop trying to save face

Yield to those with nonreligious Grace

Move over and let them make this world their place

 

For you and your kind are an unacceptable/intolerable disgrace

 

 

farewell my love

Posted: May 14, 2014 in Uncategorized

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Every once in a while

A friend says goodbye

It is his time

It is her way

 

Oh how I wish I had one more day

Isn’t that what we all say

Except when it is someone we can’t stand

Then we bring out the band

 

But those times, in a wicked way, are fun

But not when your heart losses someone

 

That gaping hole

That constant ache

Death is – has to be a mistake

 

It isn’t

As cruel as that sounds

We will all end up back in the ground

 

All I can say

In this most pathetic way

See you my love

In another place

In another way.

 

I’m so glad,

I met you that day,

and am forever grateful,

we did play

mojo-love

Mankind’s ability to warp the purest of intents has been and will continue to be seen at the horror of its children – who whole heartedly participate in ever taught lack for compassion.

As evil is inherited so too can be purity; but only the strong have the ability to hold on.

To lack compassion is evil – to have it is divinity.

This is such a story of warped ideals and lack of basic empathic understanding. The revenge is Karma the cruelty is to be born to your revenge without the understanding of why.

A gangly balding 42 year old man skipped to work.  He wore his trusted black sweater (hides all stains) and over-sized boats for shoes for his gout was acting up.  His right ankle bore the brunt of unhealthy one dimensional eating – even so – he was skipping.

He had the fortune of meeting a witch who promised a potion of success.  This witch was overly humble.  She was divine, made perfect by her constant ability to deny such facts.   Her strength came from her connection to the ALL.  She had never believed herself – special.  She was about to get a lesson in magic.

Jack tromped though the company’s warehouse ready to see what this modern day sage had concocted.  He was having woman troubles.  He had felt love, once, just before cancer took her one quite morning.  He awoke to find her asleep – eternally.  Tammy, the witch, had seen and felt this moment.  She offered help but with one tiny condition.  He had to be objective and critical concerning the results.  She wanted to qualify its potency if any.

Tammy heard Jack toss his stuff down on the other side of her cube wall.  She grabbed the golden bag – filled with a Hodge-Podge of herbs, stones, oil, and magnetic sand.  She spent seven days meditating, focusing, channeling, burning – infusing every aspect of her correspondences to the intent.  She had made three bags – the other two… well… that’s a different story.

The greatest thing about magic is the vial it lifts over this world.  It is anything but mundane and we are anything but material.  We are eternal and home – that temporary vacation between lifetimes – that my friend is perfection.  More than that – more than all this – is magic can be seen by the unseen.  It acts like a flashlight – attracting and detracting what you set the purpose to… the tricky part is… the one thing Tammy tried to warn Jack of – was magic works both ways.  Her spirit is tied to healing energies… so in the end – even if her intent may be evil – due to the overriding strength of her soul – her abilities will always result in healing.  The problem or success of Jack’s request was first he requested it.  Now he’s on the hook.  Second he was warned – meaning Tammy’s off the hook, and thirdly his request was broad. Meaning the bored unused energies can try and join in.

Jack tossed his leather jacket on the chair as Tammy wondered around the corner of the isle.  He peeked his head out to see her lovely smile beaming good morning.  God he wanted her, but she did not want him and he knew it.  She saw him as a brother from another mother and he began to see her as the same.  Even with her busty buxom build that was anything but mannish, the curve of her wide hips and large backside made his mouth dry; she was a late 30 year old tom-boy.  Her lack of parental upbringing left her to figure out how to grow and in doing so she leaned more towards the ways of gentleman than woman.  She was as vulgar as any man except when in mixed company.   She even stood when a lady came to sit at their table.  The men laughed at her.  She just shrugged it off.  There was so much she didn’t understand concerning gender roles.

Jack found her fascinating. If they couldn’t be wed then best friends for life – he decided.  Tammy bounced over and Jack tried not to stare too much.  Tammy had become accustomed to men staring at her weighted chest.  She never thought she was even remotely attractive – she couldn’t have been anymore wrong.  She wasn’t white, blonde or blue eyed but she was a looker, with a personality to kill for.

“You got it”  he leaned in with his halitosis ridden breath.

Tammy smiled and tried not to pull back.  The sourness of the air was wretched, but she couldn’t insult her friend Jack.  She pulled a small golden bag from her side pocket.  Quickly the air switched from the scent of living rot to a perfumed sweetness she could stand.  Jack grinned.  His eagerness forced him to grab for it.  Tammy was far too fast and pulled it away in time.

“Now listen.”  She paused.  Not for effect but to wait for his mind to quiet down.  “I made yours a bit different.  Not only did I build it to attract love, prosperity, and security; but I also built it to ward off crazies, negativity, and anything harmful.”

“perfect.”  His blue eyes sparkled with the possibility of freedom.  “Goodbye Robin.”

Two years after Jack awoke to find his Hope dead – her old friend called on him… called on him and then moved in.  She practically suction cupped herself to him.  He couldn’t go to the bathroom alone – no joke – the door had to be open.  After two dates she had moved her stuff in and Jack was trying to figure out how to move her stuff out.  He was too polite.  Tammy advised him to be honest and upfront but the holidays were around the corner and he didn’t know what to do – which is where the bag comes in.

He fell in love with the scent and asked after the ingredients.  Tammy told him all and reminded him of the objective promise.  He was so happy and promised to carry it with him everywhere.  All Tammy could do was smile and return to her work on the other side of the cube.  The scent of the bag wafted over the high dull colored walls and reminded her of home.  Her own heart was breaking but that is also another story.