Tag Archives: hard choices

Orphan

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He was my first Deity, my Lord
All I knew encircled Him
He was the sun and I followed in path
Capitulated to His moods,
Prayed for His mercy
Lived in fear of His wrath

After all he was My Father

But he bowed to a deity
Of his own
That either kept him cold and aloof
or filled with the spirit
of liquid hellish fire
of various proof

We tried to be as quiet as a church
In the middle of the night
But we never found a peace to be still
When I can be whipped awake
At any moment
For some ages old forgotten ill

And where was she you ask
When his fist and my face
Were making connections
How could she save me when she herself
Was in dire need
Of her own protection

Where do I go
This was my shelter
It was all I’ve ever known
I’m taught never to be where I’m not wanted
But what do I do when I’m a child
And where I’m not wanted is home

Well the first time I ran
I was soon returned
For I was very under aged
But I aired laundry in the process
And now both of them
Were enraged

Straight A’s brought not a praise
Chores lack brought not a reproach
His indifference became such
That I would push his buttons
With a cheeky little laugh
The only way to feel his touch

Knowing it was all
A fucked way to feel
Just added to vicious revolution
a penance to pay
For which there was never
an absolution

So when I broke out
And ran away part four
I just started living wild
No one ever said a word
what could they say
I am my father’s child

I’m told I should still love him
Pray for him
And wish him well
I say I do in the mere fact
that I simply
never wished him to hell

Some called me cold
Some called me tough
can handle any shit
But I grew up where
whining didn’t change a thing
so what was the point to it

My mother died first
and she I do miss
She did the best that she could
The next I saw him was to bury him
keeping a promise
he knew I would

He’s been gone
nearly a year
without any impact
I was an orphan
deep in my soul
long before I was in fact

====================

Mining the Memory–dVerse ~ Poets Pub Meeting The Bar :

Don’t Know Why

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I’m sitting here, just sitting here, wrapped in your memory
It’s one so deep in my heart and I really know that I should let it be
But it’s like a sad, sad love song stuck on the same sad, sad refrain
I can’t stop myself from feeling this, even though it’s all just pure pain

But here you are locked within my heart
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why

I admit I didn’t think, I’d make it through those first heartbreak days
But much time has passed and I’ve been just fine since we parted ways
I laugh at our past, brush it away, I got over the things I miss
So I do not understand why today I am so deeply feeling this

Because here you are locked within my spirit
As if we never said goodbye
And I don’t know why

I can’t seem
I can’t seem to excise my heart from you
It’s a struggle
It’s a struggle I thought was through
But your smile, our laughter, all we had
Is right here at easy recall
Oh, we sure were worth the rise, baby
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,
No, I just can’t redo that fall

Yet here you are locked within my soul,
As if we never said goodbye
And I just want to cry, feel like I want to die
And I don’t why
No, I don’t know why

<>==========<>==========<>

Trying to excise a memory

dVerse ~Poet Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 79

In The Company of Heroes

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When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me all of me
Evanescence – My Immortal / Fallen

In the company of heroes is how I often feel
Your lives forced into a world tipsy and surreal
A struggle from the moment your first breath premiers
Clotho’s newest thread in life’s ongoing tapestry
I ignore the naysayers of your tough chances to be
I’m among the first to get to know your excellence my dears
As I engage in the daily wait of a hope and a prayer:
For quick release from the terrors that constrict your air
Trying to balance a life already in arrears
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears

What the world needs now is to see you fight against death
See you working towards the next small but tantalizing breath
That every morning you live to see is a cause for cheers
All the world’s a stage and you are its most promising star
And my job is behind the wings to get you that far
For the world is a tunnel vision until your sight clears
You’re just too young to know all that you go through
That I’m there holding your tiny hand smiling at you
Or if in your vexing sleep, a nightmare appears;
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears

Even in the quietest moments sometimes your bodies shake
The wretched fevers your young bodies try to break
Or in the wee twilight hours how your pleas reach my ears
I’m grateful for your screams, their justice I seek
The thousand of cries are promises of a life not weak
I like to think that some small value of my Zen adheres
Though it’s a wisdom felt with absolute prudence
Thus uttered only in moments of complete silence
Though gone from me, you’ll remember in life’s jeers
I held your hand through all of these years

I hide among the simple, among the small select
Just doing a job, my soul chooses to elect
Having a temperance for each and every special baby
But the generosity of my spirit is always short-lived
When unto the new guardians of you I must give
One way or another you’re taken away from types like me
My neonatal babies that fight just to survive each day
Your headlong courage always holding such sway
As you live you won’t remember any of this I now see
But you still have all of me

<>==========<>==========<>

Just a few days ago I was listening to Evanescence’s My Immortal from their Fallen CD and the refrain reminded me of an older friend of mine who worked in a neonatal care unit.  She would occasionally speak of some of the babies that crossed her path.  Holding their tiny, trembling hands. The ones that screamed until exhaustion took them only to wake and scream again. They didn’t all reach it, but the goal was always to help them survive to the point they can survive on their own. Every now and again she would be lucky enough to see  them grow throughout their childhood years and on rare occasion to adulthood. Even though very few would ever know of her existence in their lives in those very early days.

My favored glosa form, designed to used the words of another, was the perfect vehicle for today’s prompt. This write is for her and all the countless others like her simply doing their job.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar: Literary Allusion

Query…

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So, a friend posed an interesting query in one of my Facebook groups:

“So here’s the question. If you there was a button that you could push that would give you superpowers but would also permanently change you to the opposite gender – would you push it? Would it be a hard decision, whether your answer was yes or no? Or is it an obvious choice?”

My initial response was heartfelt No!  I enjoy being female in this modern-day and age.  For all the roads we have yet to travel equality wise etcetera, so many more have opened up for women just in the past hundred plus years alone it is a great time to be female.

But then I stopped thinking about me, and me being me, went and did what I always do and over thought the hell out of it in a generic sense.

In a transgender scenario, the flip to the opposite sex is obvious, having a superpower to boot is a bonus. This sex switch mostly becomes of interest for the cisgendered.

What of the woman who now has all the physical characteristics of a male, but her heart and soul would remain feminine?  If the new body build is proportionate to the original (a tall, fat male becomes a tall, fat female etc.), I’d say that is going to make the desire to wear a dainty dress interesting.  Is she in drag now?

Let’s go down to another level, sexuality.  A hetero male is now in a woman’s body. His sexual preference is still for females – you just know someone is going to ask if this now makes him a lesbian.  Yes, he can now teleport, but can he handle the perception of being gay?

And speaking of perceptions….

This is looking at it from the view of the person who chooses to push the button.  What of the married hetero female, who did not choose to switch and power up, who now has to deal with having a wife? What if they live somewhere that does not recognize gay marriage? Hell, what if the husband, in his new bodacious female body, is even prettier than she?  Trust me – some women are going to go there.

Oh, that rabbit hole is getting pretty damn deep there isn’t it, Alice?

Now let us swing that spot light from the generic back to specific -aka me- again.

Would I be willing to trade being a female to have the ability of flight, telepathy or telekinesis, shape-shifting or a myriad of other self-serving powers? Absolutely not.

However, what if with a push of that magical button I have the ability to heal?

  • With just a simple touch – the mangled body from a car crash – restored.
  • The baby born with a deformed heart – now whole.
  • Make that virulent cancer not just go into remission, but disappear as though it never existed.

I’m not a girly-girl. Never having to wear a dress (or bra), again would not hurt me in the least. I think I have strong masculine features in my face anyway, so other than a change of hair and not bothering with make-up would also be a bonus. My friends who know me well already say I think like a male in so many ways, personality-wise I do not think it be much different. And to top it all off, I do love my men and my women, so even sexually I’m still in a good place.  At this stage in my life, I may very well be one of the best candidates for that particular button pushing.

Were I still married and raising my children, I know I would likely turn it down without a second’s thought or regret. However, I am not married and my children are very much adults.

So if I can heal others, would the adjustments to my new body, both physiologically and psychologically, outweigh the greater good of all I can eventually help?

In all honesty, once again, I have to answer Absolutely not.

As the TV show would ask – What Would You Do?

30/30 – 17 | All Right

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Tim had not stepped foot in Big Billy’s Big Bar in nearly a year months. It was in the midst of summer when he had that melt down.  And here it was blazing again.  He sighs for a moment at the memory of when he was last in this place. A part of Tim still couldn’t believe he let her take him that far down into the gutter.

For that is exactly what happened. He let her.

He let her in his life. He let her pull him from his friends. He let her put the needle in his arm, foil to his nose. He let her in his finances. It took almost two years but he had let her turn his whole life on end.  It took the shock of his father dying to see through all the shiny distractions he let blind him with to the dark destruction he had let her make of his life. But not before he crawled into some bar (because he was no longer welcomed to this one), on hands and knees that were scraped near raw from the sidewalks, strung out and covered in filth. Still, the first thing he had asked for was her knowing she used to go there. The owners knew Tim was friends with Big Billy and called here instead. Billy had managed to get Tim to the bar, up right but the moment Big Billy had let got, so had Tim.

Tim glanced at the area where he had purged from every orifice of his body, seemingly all at once. No one knew but Tim, Big Billy and Clarissa but the shame of it had kept him away until tonight.

“Well will ya look at what the cat done drugged up in here! Billy get your ass over and take a look at THIS!  Oh you have just gots to come on ova here and lets me give you a good squeeze!” Clarissa’s booming voice greeted him with delight as she threw down the towel she was wiping a table with and had Tim in a bear hug before the sentence was finished.  Knowing it was coming Tim had braced himself for the impact. Still, he felt his last breath escape out of him in a rush from her heartfelt hug.  Unable to catch a new breath for a moment as his face was trapped between the swells of her ample bosom, he didn’t mind one damn bit as comfort of the familiar took over.  Clarissa has greeted him this way for nearly eighteen years and it was as if the past several months absence had not happened at all.

“Oh good God Clarissa!  It’s a damn miracle you ain’t suffocate some soul to death up in there.” Tim was red in the face, but grinning as she finally let him go.

“They can only hope they be lucky enough to go that way. I know I’m hoping I am.” Big Billy, Clarissa’s husband greeted him with slightly gentler but anywhere near as suffocating hug. “You all right there Tim?”

“No, but I will be.” He answered honestly.

“That’s what I like to hear. The usual?” Big Billy patted him on the shoulder. Billy sees him eying the bar. “Don’t worry the spot will always be yours.”

“And you know it!” Tim sits at his usual seat at the far end of the bar.

Pretty soon it really was as if no time had passed in the bar. Regulars he had not seen in so long, new people who look like potential regulars. Tim was there for over two hours and was having a grand old time when Clarissa dropped a glass.”You’ve got to be shittin’ me!”

Clarissa has thrown a glass or two. Clarissa has juggled several glasses, but Clarissa has never dropped a glass.  All eyes are on Clarissa, except Clarissa and Billy’s eyes are on Tim, and he knew.

Blair.

She looked just as good as he remembered he’d give her that. His heart quicken at the sound of her laughter as Blair breezed through the doorway backwards, laughing up into the face of some new male, some new victim. She turned to take step down and froze at the sight of him. Their eyes locked and for a brief moment his entirely history with er flashed before him. The soaring heights, the devastating fall, all the peaks and valleys in between. When it was good, oh it was so good! But once it went bad…

Tim had not laid eyes on her in nearly a year. He had wondered just what he would he’d feel should they ever cross paths again.  He is surprised by the answer as he slowly lowers the brandy snifter to the bar surface, watching her walk out. He sighs as the door closed behind her.

Billy looked at Tim askance for a moment, trying to read his friend’s expression.

“You all right there, Tim?”

“No, but… ” Tim starts to give his usually response and catches himself.

“Actually, you know what? Yeah, yeah I am.”

30/30 – 14 | Precipice

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She stands at the precipice.

The dark blue of the ocean stretches out before her, so calm and deep.  The first whispers of the breaking dawn, in the far off horizon. Even the Baracelanra wind, usually brisk this early in the season of Karisnaan, is gentle on the many cuts and and wounds that mark her.

Far off sounds, hidden in the early morning mists of the Asiv forest, loomed nearer.

She couldn’t decide which was worse.

The nightly terrors of the forest, of which she had never encountered before this waning night, the known dangers of the same untamed, dense forest in the daylight, or the far off sounds which she knew better than her own heartbeat. The heartbeat only now beginning to ease to normal levels.

She breaths deeply of the air, heavily scented of the Marlesh blooms native to the nearby mountains.  Even in the near dark, the presence of the Lanig could be felt.

For centuries, her people had attempted to cross over the near razor sharp edges of the mountain; all who tried have died in the attempt.

For centuries, her people had attempted to pass through the mountain; all who tried have  died in the attempt.

For centuries, her people attempted to till the land at the foot of the mountain; all flora and vegetation except the Marlesh died in the attempt.

For centuries, her people have since learned that the Lanig will not be crossed over, passed through or tilled on.  Yet, the Marlesh thrives.

She listens again to the sounds, breaking the quiet of the dawn.  She has time yet to enjoy this view, and slowly, painfully lowers her achinng body to sit on the still dew damp grass of the precipice.  Her feet mere inches from the sheer drop to the ocean below.

She had been born on this precipice.  She had frightened her family to no end during her early youth, with her constant wandering to this place.  At least until she grew older and they were certain she would not go over its steep edge.    Here in the Second Coming of her Etol N’gavet she still cannot fathom her attraction to this place.  Like the Lanig – it just is so.

The once far off terrors of sound are now fully upon her and she slowly rises to face its source.

No words are spoken between them.

The time for words had long since passed, when she tore through the horrors of the Asiv itself in her attempt to escape the inevitable.  The expressions exchanged between them however spoke volumes.

Submit!
Never!
What choice do you have?!

She glanced at her surrounds.  The ocean, an unnaturally brilliant blue in the rising sun of this new day, is to the right of her.  The Lanig, to her left with it beautiful flowers and fierce jagged edges, glinted in the sunlight. The Asiv behind her? She had barley survived her flight through it is trying to reach this precipice.  She knew she would not make it to the terrors of the forest this time, let alone through it again.  And finally, that which she could not escape, unabashedly enjoying this moment of triumph, waiting patiently to claim her.

What choice did she have? The alternative was equally final and eternal as far as she was concerned.

Sighing deeply, resignedly, she feels her soul depart from her body as she takes the final step towards her fate…

..And leaps.

She relishes in the screams of frustration coming from above her as she sails through the air to the rocks and ocean below.

She couldn’t help but smile.

It was a beautiful place to be born.

And a beautiful place to die.

30/30 – 9 | Challenge Pt. 2

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If this is your first time visiting my blog, the following will make a little more sense to you if you read PART 1 of it first.

“And speak of the demoness and here she comes!” A familiar shape caught Marcus’ attention. I followed he ’ gaze to Delia and a couple of her friends as the passed by the store where we were.

When the hell did Delia get so fine!

She was always a cute if chunky girl. Even as a tomboy she was pretty and she always had that big ol’ butt! We used to ridicule her viciously as kids. It just seems like overnight the rest of her body caught up. Still, she was just Dee to me. The pigtails and barrettes that used to be all over her head were replaced with one curling pony tail, held in place with one of those stupid looking scrunchy things that the girls wear now. Her hair almost touched her shoulder blades with the scrunchie, it had close to mid back when set loose. I remember threatening to kick her ass a couple of years ago back when we were still speaking and she mentioned cutting it. I know I’m not the reason why she hasn’t done so yet, but I am glad she hadn’t.

I was joking earlier, but I realized now I was right. The rest of her body had caught up with, giving her a very, very curvy shape. Wearing a t-shirt under an over-sized shirt, bootcut jeans and some kind of biker looking boots she was the most casually dressed of the three of them. Hell, she had on the most clothes of the three of them and she was still the best looking of the three of them. Now, if she just had on Lisa’s mini skirt and Mercedes’ snug crop top . . . DAYUM! I caught myself in mid thought.

I never really thought of her as a woman before. But a woman was damn sure what I was looking at now! Which again was stupid, I know guys are always all over her. I also know she is still a virgin. Her reputation as a cock-blocker was well in place. Sometimes, I’d swear guys step up to her just to see how she’s going to shoot them down.

“I was thinking about hooking up with her, you know. The woman is cold! But I think I got what it takes to get in that!” Marcus smirked.

“Huh?” I snapped out of my trance, hoping Marcus didn’t notice.

“Damn man!” Marcus snapped fingers in front of my face as we were walking out. “If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn you were seeing Delia Larson for the first time in your life!”
So much for that thought, I shrugged more to myself than him.

“Come back to earth, yo. I was saying I was thinking ‘bout hittin’ on her.” He repeated, indicating Delia with a nod.

“I don’t think so!” I spun on Marcus so fast I surprised myself. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Say what?” Marcus stopped in his tracks.

“You don’t touch her ever!” I stated slightly less vehemently than before.
Where the fuck was this coming from?

My sheer confusion of the moment was apparent. I rarely have to speak to my peeps in that tone of voice anymore to get my point across, least of Marcus. Especially not over some damn girl! I couldn’t decide if it was this edginess or something specific to Delia.

“Do I get to ask why?” Marcus asked, as curious by my sudden hostility as I.

“Fuck no.” I leaned against the railing looking down the center of the mall to the lower floors.

“You plan on hitting it?” I knew Marcus knew he was pushing his luck. I knew he knew he probably felt it his duty to force me to confront whatever this was that I was feeling. But the boy could not have know how close I to the edge I was – shit I didn’t know until someone does something to make me see it.

“Don’t say it again.” I warned and I didn’t bother to pretend it wasn’t a threat. Hittin’ it was what we did with the Morgue Mamas, our sister group. Hittin’ it was what we did with the girls in school. Hittin’ it was what we did with any stupid and not so stupid female we could bullshit into giving it up. “Hit it and forget it” as they say, she was just a fuck.
You “hit” what you don’t want or care about and…

Whoa!

I felt my head literally snap to attention as I stood up and realized Marcus was staring at me and smiling; easily following my train of thought. This was definitely about Delia. What the fuck was going on with me? I really didn’t know how I felt other than the extreme relief that I didn’t have to deal with her at this moment. And before Marcus could inquisition me further, the topic of the conversation walked out of a boutique a few doors down.

Lisa and Mercedes, Delia’s running buddies, definitely looked as though they wanted to come over and talk to us. Something Delia was saying was holding them back. Delia and I made eye contact just before I pulled out a pair of sunglasses and pretended not to watch the exchange. A literal split decision was made. Delia walked off on her own as Lisa and Mercedes came towards us. I leaned against the railing, watching Delia as she walked away. She had an edgy energy about her. I knew that walk. Something was on her mind as well.

Marcus and I flirted with Lisa and Mercedes, just killing time. I was just beginning to feel like I could relax when my edginess went up a tempo.

Fuuuuuuck!

I was glad I already had on the sunglasses and started to scan my perimeter. Marcus felt the change. Without missing a beat in the conversation, he casually leaned against the railing next to me and tapped out a code. I nodded in acknowledgement. Lisa, slightly more perceptive than her partner, noticed the silent exchange between Marcus and I and wisely decided it was time to go. Then again, her brother Ray is a Morguer. She may have recognized the code. Marcus turned to face opposite me. Between the two of us we now had a 360 degree view of our surroundings. Mercedes had started to protest about leaving until her cell went off.

Marcus tapped my elbow nodding to a spot over my shoulder. Delia was standing in front of Dushay’s Music store about half the mall length away from where we were standing holding her cell. I reached out and took the cell phone from Mercedes before she could answer and held up my other hand to cut off whatever stupid shit I knew was going to come out of her mouth.

“Talk to me.”

“’Raisers. Trendy’s at six down two. Bennett’s has a couple. Hank is with Jermaine Robles. Hank’s under – deep. Told them you’re running silent. Please, please tell me you’re not running silent.”

Marcus was just signaling to me about the two Hellraisers he spotted behind me and two levels down at Trendy’s while she spoke.

Fuck!

“Cool.” I spotted the reverse reflection of at least two more Hellraisers about three stores down from us – Bennett’s. I purposely didn’t answer her question. “Take your girls and go – now.”
“Brian Kendrick Palmera!” She hissed at me using my full formal name. She was not happy with me at the moment. She only used my name like that when she was pissed or scared! Unfortunately, I was a little too preoccupied at the moment to indulge her.

“Hey, looks like your girl wants to go, NOW!” I closed the cell and handed it back to Mercedes. Lisa pulled a protesting Mercedes and walked off.

They went off in one direction as Marcus and I walked off in the opposite. Lisa was already on her cell calling Ray. Marcus pulled out his to call in more reinforcements. If Marcus and I were lucky, some of our guys were already here just hanging as we were. If not, we were on our own.

“Are you silent?” I asked Marcus already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I knew we were coming here. I didn’t want the noise either.”

I couldn’t argue that. Normally our going in the mall without any heat wouldn’t be a problem. Carrying a piece is asking for trouble. You set off sensors like crazy. Even when you make a legal purchase you go off because you’re carrying. Depending on the store, that may actually get you busted for carrying as some cops work part-time as security and will call it in just to fuck with you. We either leave the gear in a vehicle, or as Marcus and I did, leave it with Ronny who was on door detail today, just for that reason. Unfortunately, Ronny was a good three levels down. Marcus started calling, but I knew we wouldn’t meet up in time.

All the local organizations, Morgue Makers, Hellraisers, Bloodworks etc., had an unofficial truce about malls; their parking lots and similar places were there was a lot of the public around. One group does something stupid in a place like this; we all catch fucking hell from bitch ass cops for weeks afterwards. Most of the time, the minor bullshit wasn’t worth the ensuing headache.

This was not minor.

A Morguer went under deep. He switched organizations, to our main rivals the Hellraisers.

This wasn’t even a challenge – this was an out-and-out fucking assassination attempt.

FUCK!

Henry Innis called Hank just like Aaron, was trying to make his mark within the Morgue Makers. He’s young and has a real mean streak in him. He likes to hurt people. This makes him useful as an enforcer, but he has little sense of self-control. I was hoping to hone his skills and his mind, but I knew he was going to be a problem after I had to take him down in front of the guys for jacking up some young girl because she pissed him off.

And he wants to be a power – bad. He beat the shit out of Frick – our former Arsenal. He beat the shit out of the guy in a challenge for his title. As thanks for the twenty-something stitches and the trouble of it all, Frick lost his job. If you can’t protect yourself you can’t protect our ammo, that’s law. Still, there was no way in hell I was letting Innis anywhere near our gear. I gave the title of Arsenal to Tagger instead, which pissed Hank off royally because even he knows he can’t beat Tagger. Point blank, every Warlord needs a killer and Tagger was mine. Tagger was short for Toe-Tagger. Even Hank didn’t need that shit explained to him. He had the chops to eventually equal if not replace Tagger someday, but not now. So, Morgue Makers and I weren’t giving him what he wanted fast enough and he thinks he’s going to get it from Hellraisers instead? The boy has a lot to learn, and I could not wait to begin class.

Hank was at the office when Marcus and I left. He knew we were going to the mall and we were running silent. Does that mean he also knows there are only a few other Morguers here? Or is he taking the chance that by the time they arrive the damage is done? Does he not realize that no matter what happens he’s a dead man? No one likes a turncoat. Your previous alliance will take you out because you turned on them. Your current alliance may take you out because if you turn once, you could turn again. You’ll be used for whatever info can be gathered and then you’re put down.

Almost always permanently.

Marcus and I heard yelling not too far behind us. The yelling did it; even Marcus had to grin under the circumstance. The woman was a royal pain in my fucking ass. What part of Take your girls and go – NOW was misunderstood? They were making such a commotion I had to look.
Somehow, Jermaine was on the floor tangled up in the bags Delia was carrying. He was cursing her out and she was cursing back. Hank was laughing at the both of them, which caused Jermaine to turn on him. Then they both saw Marcus and I and remembered why they were there. I didn’t see Digger at first. I just heard that heavy ass chain with all those keys he always carries with him and knew he was to my left. I signaled Marcus out of habit, but I could tell he already spotted the situation.

As Jermaine and Hank started to come toward us, Lisa and Mercedes accidentally into them. At least Lisa had – that was too bold a move for chicken shit Mercedes. But it worked out perfect, because in Mercedes’ haste to get the hell out of their way she wound up tripping Jermaine again, who fell into Hank, which caused Mercedes to fall on top of them. God, it was beautiful! I couldn’t have planned that if I wanted to. I swung around and sucker-punched Digger just as he was about to come down on me with brass knuckles. Marcus ducked as a guy the ‘Raisers call Jimmy swung.

Digger was strong but he was slow. The key with him was not to let any of his hits connect. At least not more than once! I heard a commotion below me, then a whistle and I smiled. Morguers were here! I didn’t know how many were in, but I knew by the whistle that at least one was Lisa’s brother Ray. Only he could whistle that damn loud and clear! The two Hellraisers at Trendy’s were now accounted for. That left it at a two to four ratio, between Marcus and I.

Easy.

I was still tangling with Digger when Jermaine jumped in. Marcus and Jimmy were at it. Hank was off to the side, just watching; the plan being to tire me out. Jermaine must have thought of it, because Hank has no head for that type of subtle strategy. Putting Digger and Jimmy on me was a pretty damn good plan. When Hank finally does make the challenge, I won’t be quite as up to par, while he’d be fresh.

Only thing, I just wasn’t having it.

Not only is Digger big and lumbering; he also doesn’t have a lot of endurance. He was already starting to slow down. Good. I circled around so that Jimmy was behind me, with Digger in front. Of course, Jimmy tried to jump me from behind. It was so easy it felt as if he had literally jumped into my throw. I simply turned around, picked him up as his feet left the floor, turned again and used his own momentum to throw him over Diggers head into the Crazy Comics window. The impact didn’t break the glass, but it cracked. Unfortunately, Digger started to charge at me just as I released Jimmy. A flying kick to his midsection sent him flying into the same window before Jimmy had a chance to move, the glass shattered all over them.

“STOP!” I yelled it at the top of my lungs.

The stupid motherfucker Jermaine actually stopped! Marcus sucker punched him and he dropped like a rock to the floor. It was so easy I couldn’t even enjoy it. Without missing a beat Marcus got behind me to cover Jimmy and Digger in case they actually had some fight left in them.

That just left Hank and I.

I held my arms out to Innis. He came off the wall and stood less than five feet in front of me, grinning, but not speaking. I’ve seen images of demons with less deadly grins. He lowered into a fighting stance, his hands up, but not completely closed into fists.

“You know the rules Innis, you gotta say it or it’s just Britch giving out another ass kicking.” Marcus reminded him.

“Shut the fuck up bitch!” Hank hissed, “First thing I’m gonna do is kick your ass, when I become the ‘lord.”

“When you become the Lord?” Marcus shook his head, inching over to a slowly recovering Digger. “Oh hell, Britch, you knew he got a Messiah complex too?”

“What?” Hank looked up confused; I smirked. I could just make out the butt of a gun tucked in the front of his jeans under a loose shirt. I knew he wouldn’t be silent, I just wondered how loud he was going to get. He could simply issue the challenge and shoot me. Technically, he would win, but he would never have either org’s respect, because I was unarmed. Not to mention the complications of going deep. Since he officially left the Morguers, Marcus automatically ascends to my title. And unless Innis shot Marcus immediately afterward, he would be a dead man within five minutes. I had no doubt Marcus would kill him. I know I would kill Innis over Marcus were the situation reversed. That means I had to keep him talking somehow and either mentally or physically out-maneuver Innis.

“Never mind.” Marcus threw up his hands and stomped Digger back into unconsciousness. “Do what you think you gotta do. Just don’t blow your balls off with that thing, or we’ll be calling you Henrietta.”

Marcus was purposely pissing Innis off; an angry fighter was a stupid fighter. Innis had great physical instinct, but he wasn’t exactly a brain trust. If he wasn’t smart enough to not let himself get goaded, who was I to stop him? He drew the gun on Marcus.

Okaaaay.

The .380 was not silent at all.

Marcus froze and I could literally hear the change in his breathing as he switched emotional gears. I liked the sound. The last time I heard Marcus breathe like that the result landed someone the other person in a coma. In this mode Innis was truly a dead man if Marcus got close enough to touch him. The only thing that could stop him would be a kill shot. Unfortunately, I also knew Hank would do nothing less.

I decided now might be a pretty good time to end this shit.

“So, are you issuing the challenge, or are you just going to keep primping bitch?” I still had not lowered my arms. He turned the gun on me. The muzzle was less than a foot from my face. I grinned. Innis glared at me totally baffled on why I suddenly smiled and then did exactly I expected of him – he got mad.
“You think I won’t bitch!” He yelled.

Our eyes never left each other as my smile broadened as I dropped kicked him.

As he fell, he cocked the gun, pulled the trigger…

…and nothing.

That’s why I grinned, in his anger the stupid little bitch forgot the safety was on!

He was totally confused for only a second before realizing his mistake, by then I had kicked the gun out of his hand. I could tell by the noise there was a little bit of a scramble as people got out of the way of the weapon. My eyes never left Innis, this was not Digger; he recovered quickly enough. I swung at him with the intention of giving up a left upper cut when he slashed my arm.

Where the fuck did the knife come from? This thing was no fucking joke!

The blade itself was about ten inches long. One side was razor sharp, the other side serrated. Not just serrated, but it edges curved inward like hooks. I glanced at my arm then returned my focus to him, he was grinning again.

Fuck, I knew that look.

I’ve seen it on Tagger enough. Hank was really ready to deal and finally issued the challenge for my title. My arm hurt like a motherfucker, but I could not afford to check it. I knew the moment I took my eyes from Innis I was dead and all Marcus would be able to do was avenge me.

All organizations respected the rules of a challenge. Once issued, you fought with what you had on you at the moment or whatever you could make do with. No one could assist you in any manner other than ensure that no one from opposing orgs number up on you or assist their member. I could feel the blood starting to run down my arm, but I opened them in challenge again. I heard Marcus curse under his breath, which meant the cut was worse than I thought and the true pain would kick in the moment my adrenalin faded.

“That’s cute, Hankie. So did your Mama buy that for you from the Star Trek store? You got the little communicator thingy too? Spock calling Hankie. Mr. Worf would like his apple corer back.” I don’t know what he expected me to do, but it damn sure wasn’t to mock him. Innis blinked rapidly. He was totally baffled by my behavior. There was a reason why I was Warlord and the little fuck still didn’t get it. Someone laughed hard at that corny ass shit I said, but it was enough to get further under Innis’ goat and that’s all I wanted.

“Bitch!” Innis charged at me.

I could tell he was expecting me to swing sideways so I dropped down to the floor. He was committed to his forward motion, and the blade went way over my head. I grabbed his blade hand on the way up twisting his wrist. He back flipped out of it. I front flipped back into it, and landed a solid punch in his gut. He bent over double. As I said, Hank was no Digger. The little motherfucker punched me in the balls. It hurt enough to stun me for a moment, but it wasn’t full contact, I came out of it faster than he expected and saw the blade coming.

The look of surprise on his face that he missed my throat was probably and the same look on my face.

I was losing blood from my arm and already felt it going numb. I didn’t think it would be in my best interest to give up anymore hemoglobin. Somewhere, behind me I heard a cop order Innis to drop the blade. Of course, being a dutiful citizen, he obeyed.

Riiiiight.

Hank came at me again and we both went over a bench. I landed on my back, with him on top of me. I quickly rolled over taking him with me and started beating the shit out of him. I was hitting him faster than he could get the knife to me, but I was still getting sliced like mad on my hands and lower arms. The cop attempted to pull me off of Innis, who used the distraction to bury the knife in my gut.

The pain stunned me so I could not yell out. Maybe I should have, because Hank apparently felt he hadn’t got me enough and twisted it.

Then I screamed.

The cop who had me, held on tighter. I was too stunned from the pain of the blade to break free. Hank stood up with that damn grin and yanked the blade out, with some help from me as I kicked him backwards and I regretfully found out what the serrated side was for the hard way.

Getting stabbed with the smooth edges blade going in was painful enough; to suddenly have it yanked out is worse. This damn thing had been twisted in me and then yanked. Only the cop holding me up as he was trying to pull me away from Hank kept me standing. I felt each and every one of those fucking hooks! I felt rather than saw Hank coming at me again. I knew I would not survive another gut slashing of that blade.

Using the cop as a brace I lunged up and used both feet to send Hank sailing away from me. Now, the damn cop lets go to try to catch his own balance and we both dropped to the floor. I screamed from the effort. I heard a lot of other people screaming, but I was in too much pain to respond. I was damn near blind with it. I rolled off the cop and tried to stand, looking for Hank, when I saw Delia running towards me.

What the fuck was she doing?? I reached out to stop her, but slipped on my own blood.

“Oh shit!” I fell into Delia’s arms and she lowered me to the floor. I was starting to feel dizzy. Shit was becoming this surreal blur of light and sound. Delia was saying something to the cops Marcus was yelling at someone about self-defense. Good, he was all right. Mercedes was carrying on about something else, when both Lisa and Delia turned and yelled “Shut! The! Fuck! Up! Now!” at her.

And all of it sounded like it was happening in a water tunnel, a block away.

I smelled honeysuckle.

Delia likes honeysuckle.

Delia.

Why was she here? I reached out to her.

“Keep still, dammit!” She admonished, “You’re losing a lot of blood. We’re waiting for paramedics.” She grabbed some kind of cloth out of a bag, placed it over what felt like an ever-growing fire in my gut and had me apply pressure. If the paramedics didn’t get here soon I knew I was going to pass out from shock. I had to stay conscious as long as possible. I was incapacitated and Marcus was definitely in cuffs, otherwise he would have been by my side. I didn’t know how many of my boys were, if they were clear of the cops and more important were there any other senior members present?

I saw one of my boys on the other side of the mall. He was leaning on the railing, just one of the many shoppers watching what was going on over here. But his fingers were moving. I was a slow pattern, because he had to keep casual in his moves. I realized he was actually signaling Marcus, correctly assuming I was out of it. I got the message. Three Morguers were down. I knew who two were who was the third? I tried to look around.

“Stop it!” Delia hissed at me. “You trained them; trust them to hold it down ‘till you get back!”
I was not even going to ask how she knew what I was doing. I simply nodded and succumbed to her administrations. She was ripping up a t-shirt and using the strips to replace the shirt barely stemming the flow of blood from me. The price tag scratched my skin as she removed it. Christ! She was using material from the stuff she just purchased.

She was staring down at me. It was more than clinical concern for my well being, but I wasn’t sure how to read it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I just knew I didn’t want her to leave, so I asked was what the return policy on all the stuff she was wasting on me.

“Absolutely nothing, which is a hell of a lot fucking more than what your punk ass is worth.” She grimaced, tossing aside more bloodied material. She looked toward the railing where more cops stood looking over the side.

“Innis?” I was starting to feel dizzy again.

She didn’t answer me, just slowly shook her head and looked at cops at the railing. I could hear a lot of noise from down below and it slowly sank in. My desperate Hail Mary kick had sent him over the railing to the main floor.

Four stories below us.

I won. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel particularly good about that and I guess it showed in my face.

“You did what you had to.” She shrugged reading my mind.
“But I’ve lost something important in you haven’t I?” I asked reading hers.
“Does it matter?” She asked her voice was very low, quiet.
“You know it does.” I answered honestly.
She was ripping up something else and had started a makeshift tourniquet on my arm. She looked at me, studying my face, not speaking.
“DiDa…?” I whispered after a while.

She blinked. I haven’t called her DiDa since middle school when her favorite saying was an exaggerated “La-Di-Da!” I wasn’t sure where that had come from, but it felt good, familiar and safe.
“Let’s just say I don’t think I could handle the alternative.” Her voice trailed off near end but I heard it.

“Don’t leave me.” I whispered.

I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I damn sure wasn’t expecting to say that! I knew she was speaking from the heart. I just didn’t know I was until the moment I said it. I think she was about to say something when a sharp pain went searing through me and my head started spinning.

“Oh shit!” I touched her face.

I started coughing. I tasted my own blood. Fucking great! I thought I hear Delia calling out my name, but I wasn’t sure, I was getting that far away feeling again.
“I’m glad you’re here, Dee.” I had left a bloodied handprint on her face.

She was saying something, but I couldn’t hear. I felt someone was pulling her away from me. No! I yell out. At least I thought I had, I. I couldn’t hear me, I wasn’t sure and it didn’t seem like anyone else heard either.

I felt someone grab my hand. Delia, Good.

That last thing I remembered was attempting to apologize for the handprint.

====================

Alone Again

Posted on by
7

 

Her auburn curls were once piled high
Now they hang limply around her cherub face
And no one hears her quiet sigh
She’s just the wallflower, sitting in her usual space

Eyes focused on one across the room, looking awkward
At he who brought her here saying she looked so very nice
She’s since learned that he has won the ‘pig date’ award
Now hanging with the pretty ones, he hasn’t looked twice

It’s a wonderful night for a moon dance
The pleasant thought when she first awoke
So cruelly hoist on their antagonizing lance
Yes, she’s once again the butt of the joke

The deep resignations in her sighs
Belie the tears that sting her eyes

She takes a moment to gather her soul
All the million tiny pieces that shattered
Once again beyond her control
Not that she thinks it ever mattered

Locked in the bathroom, it’s her only refuge
It’s the only peace that she can find
Where she doesn’t feel like somebody’s stooge
The only place she can ease her mind

At times she thinks she hears the means to her end
And knows she’s far too close to its soothing call
It is all she’s got, to not let herself descend
Beyond the point where she feels nothing at all

Some days she fights to keep trying
Some days she feels more like dying

So numbed by the hurt that seems her fate
Against the odds, she stopped defying
The undue stress of those who berate
Each day it is less she finds herself crying

The personification of a silent scream
A switch is flipped with that last tear
As though awakening verse from dream
She emerges soul empty of all once held dear

Back to sitting quietly on the folding chair
Every pleat of silk carefully folded around her knees
But no one really knows or cares that she’s there
Behind thick lens her eyes stopped screaming silent pleas

For it is all such a familiar refrain
In a crowded room she’s all alone again

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dVerse Poets Pub ~ OpenLinkNight | Week 64

For all its potential…

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5

We are all wounded.
We are all fucked-up.
We are all scarred.

Some of us are a hell of a lot more jacked than others. And not all of our scars are on the outside.

Some of us are equipped to deal with it.
Some of us are not.
Some of us don’t even want to try.

We try to tend to our wounds, control our persons in our own ways…

Some drink; some get sober.
Some starve; some binge.
Some find Jesus; some lose Him.
Some chose to sleep alone; other choose to sleep with anyone/everyone rather than be alone.
Some are adrenalin junkies, crowd seekers; some become hermits.
Some draw, paint, write, create.

And some of us wake up to a tear drenched pillow yet again, but don’t remember crying…

Some of us do any combination and/or all of the above in our lives.

These are our realities…
How we dull the pain…
Silence the noise …
The ways in which we attempt to overtake that which threatens to overtake us…

For all its potential, this world can be such an ugly place sometimes.

It’s up to us to find / carve out our own individual niches of beauty within it, to survive the best we can during our time here because the alternative sucks and neither side has a reset.

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Found this written on a paper tucked in a book while I was cleaning. I hadn’t read the book in years, so I’m not sure when I actually wrote it, but it was definitely my handwriting.

I scare me sometimes.

In The End

Posted on by
21

Nights in white satin, never reaching an end
Letters I’ve written, never meaning to send
Beauty I’d always missed with these eyes before
Just what the truth is, I can’t say anymore
Nights in White Satin – The Moody Blues

We were destiny, as only the stars portend
Two opposite worlds of the equestrian track
You a portrait of its wealth, me a pole post of its lack
An interest in film creates a chance meeting
Our eyes locked in pass of eternity’s fleeting
Despite it all, these two hearts of our transcend
To have had those stolen moments with you
Were worth the obstacles we were put through
Days wrapped in gold sun, a love ascends
Nights in white satin, never reaching an end

Each loving moment together a true Godsend
More so as time lessens the hold on or plight
And we could share our love in the full day light
We were a force leaving all others in the dust
I your earth you know had my complete trust
Your heart a Gibraltar on which I could always depend
It’s beat as familiar to me as the bent of my own
But the familiar sometimes become things left alone
I wrote letters of love, as classic poets have penned
Letters I’ve written, never meaning to send.

In retrospect I would have sent each letter and more
Had I but an inkling of the plans of the fates
By the time we saw your sickness, it was too late
Your health declined with such rapid velocity
The rushes to try any means of medical restore
Introduced a side-effect unplanned
The pain became more than you could stand
A slow fade of the sparkle I had come to adore
Beauty I’d always missed with these eyes before

Somewhere in there came the chorus of rumors
That your fidelity wasn’t quite as strong as mine
One of the reasons for your health’s cruel decline
The last thing I needed was that kind of stress
I saw it as a true meter of others’ nastiness
Like your arrival, your death shook me to the core
I find myself at war with the god’s aggression
That rips from me, my soul’s one possession
In the end I oscillate between faith and rancor
Just what the truth is, I can’t say anymore

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Hyde Park Thursday Poets Rally Week 74 (October 4 -October 10)