28 August 2010

Night Terrors 9 - Blood Junkie

Night Terrors 9 - Blood Junkie

Shadows and silence endemic of the dark and elusive rotund tunnels beneath the city, accessible at the shore city cliffs, the megalithic city above obtains much of the water in whichever condition for utilization, cleaning it and pumping it into the inland leaving a massive cliff when the waters recede. The smattering wake bashes the low shore and the tide tears down the sand until each city's shore becomes bluff, where old drainage tunnels protrude and jetty from the open face of tall cities and taller ledges. In the low tide, the shores stretch into the receding ocean toward Atlantis along the shore to other newer coastal cities, but in this city the pipes, ragged and jagged and many of the sorts. Only one week ago, a young man became victim to a brooding vampire, a languished and voiceless old silk whom fatefully died by the hands of vampire hunters in the dark catacombs, leaving the boy behind lost and alone. The young boy upon learning his condition ignores rationality in the deafening thirst and preys upon a coward boy of the under caste, a nomad vagabond cast asunder the city and its moral construct never more to be seen again.

With woe alas, he would avoid and starve of they that resemble him and instead feed on the varmints that the outcasts do not eat, scurrying both the racing rodents are rare. Painstakingly he fights his hunger and blinding visage of eternity giving carnage to fate, laying in the murky waters a blood junkie, in the dark ends of the pipes near their openings at the lingering ocean, waiting for hunger to consume him or for the waging daylight to burn him alive. Restless and dreaming, terror causing spastic contortions and horrible dreams, causes insufferable nightmare in the unsavory rivulet shadowed and vulnerable. The gerent darkness stares upon the boy, watching with eminent intrigue, waiting for the descendants of the devil to interrupt the gleaning, to murder in the steam and shrill at sign of first victim, with raucous whispers that bellow into the darkening wind as they scurry rapaciously abscond to clamor and witness the fascination.

“…Is it dead…?”
“…Is it sleeping…?”
“…Who is it…?”
“…It's a feeder...”
“…Our lord Darkness…”
“…You can’t play god...”
“…It needs to be saved...”
“…We must feed…!”
“…Not as yet...”

Footsteps in the puddles of the distance of those that laugh stolidly and run to harm intently, the tunnels fill of steam and dark shadows are the senescence of a bygone era, urchin counterculture criminals, dressed in rags and chains stolen from latched doors and cages, approach the lowly vampire seeking to impale beggars that moil in filth. The shadows squelch and tear the marauders into the wall one truculent and swift the other, listless energy fighting the chasm that is the creeping death. The scathing darkness destroys their very essence as the other creatures of the shadows, too far to feast, with ancillary lament cry into the abysmal empty dark.

The cries wake the creature and it looks to the wall with a perplexed expression, the surface has no inconsistencies except a veil of blood pouring down the wall. It wakes a sullen quiescence, moaning from the healing scars and disparate tunnel and stares into memory as the shadow monsters scurry behind barely noticeable in the blood’s reflective surface. The alleviating scent of blood’s cryptic allure drags him in haptic crawl through gloomed shade to serve as sepulcher fount. Putting hands together forward then in motion filling them with the blood and drinking it canny in thoughts and apprehension, sating thirst onset from second birth and buried in silence.

22 August 2010

The Sonnet of Sunset

Autumn shadows waiting all seek their wits,
to haunt the dusk and wait for nether realm,
vague and meek the watchers wait in the pits,
staring blindness venturing at the helm,
thick darkness blowing as they treat the cell,
whispers behind every fallen pace,
and certainly something living in hell,
as close as time so quickly cant erase,
the light dare not tread where the devil knows,
be the lord of darkness where seething breathe,
where terror faults the strongest of the foes,
without their face, the dying merchants teethe,
dissemblance prayers wont awaken the dawn,
for with tooth and nail hope is surely gone.

American Rune Poem 2010

Affable fellow
Belonging to some forgotten order
Certainly the type to fall into
Dogma, perhaps
Energetic and needing a cause to
Fight. Anything would be better than
Getting another eternity fighting
Hell in solitude
In absolution and seclusion
Just to
Kill the demons with a
Little support for the
Masses of ignorant
Neanderthals, if in fact they were even human
Opportunity would
Put him in favorable
Question with the authorities, with
Reliable allies to
The test of time with greater numbers
Ultimately to join the front is
Veritably a horrible decision for
War is definitely a
Xenophobic decision to kill
Your enemies and not evolve, or plan contingently and live like animals in a

Haiku Nature

To tame the wanting,
in every waking storm,
growing out of reach.

Diamond Possessed

solid, clear,
shining, glowing, dying,
heavy as the heart,
rolling, falling, waiting,
dull, vague,

Crown Cinquain

to walk the path,
of all that trace before,
motivated liberated,

The air,
heaven and hell,
between the fire sky,
and every name for this world,
the storm.

Dark light,
to scream collapse,
and bring the water down,
equally to feed the willow,

The wrath,
from town to crown,
to war with shadows dark,
hiding in the dawning dusk,

before winter,
to tame the burning realm,
in every wicked wisdom,


In waiting for the rain,
the summer on the plain,
to sing the song,
of all night long,
the fire wont remain.

21 August 2010

Beatnik Too

a ship that never sails from there to here, only here to there
paper  or plastic is the only thing i remember
moon babies cant see the sun only the light near the edge of darkness
a time to see the forbidden truth about the pillars of society
paper lies and fire flies that scorn and heal the doom
cups of blood and tarnished mud that will not wash
they take every finders fee for mandated rations
want to call the protectorate enemy action
to learn to love the lies, too soon to see their eyes
know the name to stay the same and fight in the night
if destruction of our time the party wait only second in line
we've waited for your head while you paint the roses red
had worthless cash with summer hash
enough is enough, the time is now, there can only be one
and their time be yet of less haste and circumstance in better favor
all  signs be had of tireless decay
they want to take your will away
want is the first of the next order
is the freedom at the borders
to sever only broken truths the lies accept
abuse of what they soon neglect
they worship only tides and wares
only sin can take their souls as fares
want litany of endless vengeance in prosperous rage
what comes the lurk of night and day
they walk on ice and in the shade
can reflections wake the children in the early years
use truth against your wasted peers
they drink and gorge on fasted youth
want with sovereignty the weapon that they cry
to blasphemy the wanton false voice
see the heat for the light in your eyes
inside the darkest star the cage of inside
the endless fear of serpentine
fire be the masses if the lies unwind inside the mind
the party can be overrun by bleeders in the ages
voices only players on stages
it could tear the time in two
is ocean of the deepest blue
a single grain of sand to tell the time
liar of the clock will help you hold the light
the plight of mercy is not the darkest night
government can sunder the foundry fold
won't  any one take light of what is to behold
compromise legacy endearing traits
they want to make the leadership stand by
only oddly lucky in the certain howl can make dissolute
want the new to find the old
who may seek the figure is the last of the first
needs are met with circumstance
their host become the high seat
lies transcend the cover of the user's manual.

Beatnik Won

Dear friend,
Show me the door when it's 1984,
I don't want to go to war,
But I will if we don't learn anymore,
This house is on fire,
The hill is a liar,
I don't want the law to retire,
I want freedom to aspire,
Show me your friends,
Show me you are free,
Sick and tired land of liberty,
Show me the slaves without chains,
Everywhere death and lies remains.

15 August 2010

Night Terrors 8 - Mr. Jack

Night Terrors 8 - Mr. Jack

The sky is red with bloody smoke, over the building of the Invinidine Central Headquarters bathed in roaming spotlights, swarmed with humanity’s machines and covered with stone where the invidious stare of a demagogue with neon green eyes watches Necropolis from the top floor. With anger and determination, he quickly walks to his desk, grabs a rifle, and ceaselessly throws the weapon strap over his shoulder as he returns to the balcony. Without a moment's notice, he begins shooting on the city below him, not in precision but with an insipid anarchy interspersed with malaise, spraying projectile into the population coursing the street, below the building, filled with thousands of people in bidirectional walk lanes, with a sharply toothed smile the joy of destruction.

Secretary: “Mr. Jack...Mr. Jack!”

He fires a continuous array across the air as a death artisan hitting a police vehicle flying by the building, spraying with cart blanche a torrent of bullets, anything unfortunate enough to be in proximity.

Mr. Jack: “What!” he screams, “Can’t you see I'm busy?”

A woman in suit, standing in the opening of one of two doors, hair taught glasses, a stern gaze and solemn contrite, holding a clipboard in one arm and a pen in the hand of the other.

Secretary: “You shouldn't fire at security sir.”
Mr. Jack: “I'll pay for it later,” a slight disappointment in his voice, “What is it?”
Secretary: “It's time for your appointment sir.”
Mr. Jack: “Is it time already?”

He stands carefree and letting the steam dispense from him, the smoke still pouring from the gun as he turns and looks out of the balcony doorway. His thoughts led him astray, longing to pass through anew his face turns into the room and with a sigh of reluctance, and he hurries back into the room to his desk. He puts the heavy rifle on his desk with disregard, opens a locked drawer, and pulls out a white silk robe.

Mr. Jack: “Take that off and wear this when they arrive, stand by me and feel free to ask any questions… but not until they sit.”

He taps the light control board panel on his desk and a polished black wall slides open and a polished black table emerges sliding from the wall, in the center of the table is red blood that waves and settles. As she his secretary slows with intrigue, he walks to a part of the shiny wall rescinded and checks himself fastidiously for errors of his hair and clothes.

Mr. Jack: “And if they ask...you're from the agency.”
Secretary: “And why is that?”

She asked from behind him currently, her reflection undressing with little modesty in faded layers of haze.

On the roof a black sedan, smooth and subtle curves stretched and coursing with a polished shine so dark, it has no glare giving no reflection of the lights striking the clouded pollution miles above it. The front window dark and tinted smoky glass, the other windows blue steel not meant to be transparent. A security member of the complex opens the door after someone inside the car unlatches the hinges, a black glove pushes open the door with fingers wrapped around the edge not letting it sway ajar. A boot of fine leather steps out the car fill of trench coat mafia, the elite of the undead, a concise collar and dark hair, very well dressed for any era. As he exits from the other side of the vehicle a second with color of white for hair, eyes and a sharp tooth in a meager smile, his gloved hand on the roof as he waits for a second patron to exit his side of the conveyance. The first had not even exited the car when the white-silver haired one was behind the security guard.

Latham: “Don’t touch the car.”

The guard immediately takes his hand away from the door startled to see Latham as another in tall coat that is white as his hair to match the white eyes and face. Across the roof of the vehicle exits a woman wearing a dark auburn trench coat, hair, and eyes to match. The black man exits from the car staring at the guard waiting for the human’s attention; his skin is gunmetal in appearance as he wipes the slight amount of grease from the guard’s hands from the door with finger in black leather glove.

Oren: “We have another package, at the high security docks; bring it to, outside, of Mr. Jack’s office.”

From the office grows an impatient fear by Mr. Jack, whose eyes are a dull and dark murkiness, no longer the bright neon of oft emotions, waiting with fear and patience the likes of induction malice. The doors swing open with disregard, in walks the red woman followed by her comrades.

Sonja: “You wanted us to visit, so it seems as plenty patience short we are both.”

She passes Mr. Jack without making eye contact walking in somewhat of a hurry as does the black one, the white one slowly walks passed the secretary looking down her front only to pass her as well.

Mr. Jack: “…Yes…I’ve been loyal and aggressively ahead of scheduled tasks, and as you know I’ve asked for your help on a Rogue in my city.”

Mr. Jack, the agent of corruption and president of Invinidine, closes the tall white doors with cold tall golden handles, as they sit in the sleek chairs with tall backs of the secretive room. A sign of relief, he takes a big step walking to them with intrigue and haste. He had come too close to them for their comfort, and could tell immediately as they all look to him as he approaches, causing him to stop where he stands. As they press the touch-pads on the table, spouts rise made of the table itself like rising arms and they one by one, slide the glasses on the table below the spouts as they fill with the red blood from faucets shaped like backslider demons. They drink with great thirst, the one they call Latham the White drinks twice as much, twice as fast. The patience dulls and silence foments while hidden thoughts posses and display.

Oren: “And so we have…”
Sonja: “Call in the pet Latham.”

Mr. Jack hesitates and looks behind him to the door and back to they as they wait with anticipation, the assistant hesitantly walks to Jack obviously petrified by inhibition, timidly so.

Latham: “Destroyer you may enter.”

Latham had barely spoken any louder when the others had, yet there stirs a commotion. A massive step outside the doors and open they swing showing a massive warrior, each step shakes their drinks more and more as he approaches, a massive warrior with piling muscles and features of beast in the face and lupine stance wearing plated armor and thematically scarred.

Latham: “His name is Ares.”
Mr. Jack: “I thank you the only way I can.”

Mr. Jack drifts between words as he talks, as he wagers with fear and fascination in his mind, more speaking than talking, distant from the obvious yet aware of sound. They were already standing on their feet watching him pore over the beast when he notices them preparing to leave. They take another drink as she puts her gloves on her hands.

Sonja: “This should be sufficient.”

She finishes the last of her drink and sets it down to the table abruptly, it falters and lands on its side, she had done so as a misdeed because of a stringent bliss taken from her ingestion of the blood. Latham walks and stops at the woman, but loses interest and faces Jack.

Latham: “We’ll be in contact soon.”

Latham fixes Jack’s coat with both hands, jerking him and the dark one approached the door. Sonja collects herself and her respect, her composure once again calm and her thoughts again impenetrable as she leaves the room with the others. The beast breaths heavy like a dog but slow like a bear, robust breaths that lift the immense chest of the creature, Mr. Jack smiles a plotting and corrupt smile as his eyes begin to return to an acidic green glow.

Nationalist Allegiance - The Takeover

Nationalist Allegiance - The Takeover

Slowing, stalling, GDP down, federal debt is up, more than 2T a year, (with this president), precedent no end in sight, losing 2T a year in interest, which will get exponentially worse, unemployment stuck, politicians bragging on jobs created when twice as many (at least) are being lost, some old tax cuts for the top 2% of earners to expire to save money (high creme), but 98% can have a tax cut, (even the dregs) and politicians say tax cuts aren't stimulus checks, (no shit) - cuts were given to 95% of America, (before the top 2% became an issue), 50% don't even pay taxes, leaving the rest for the backs of the bruised, 'Dem asses' 100 years ago they cut taxes when 90% didn't pay and the economy rebounded, (Calvin Coolidge), liberal fascists and poor role models;

The country needs growth just to stop losing jobs - 2M jobs lost in first 6 months of stimulus funds; no momentum w/o hope, politicians (draconian) teaching the reward and not the skill, (the blood and not the kill); aristocracy; companies are cutting costs to balance the effects of D.C.; product demand is gone - and employer inhibitions have come w/ looming new taxes and (wealthcare/Obama care); (which failed in NJ and The U.K., Canada); [doesn't Canada pay 70% to taxes? that doesn't sound charitable to me. perhaps they're so kind because the imperial guards are listening?] Sanctuary cities not enforcing law, sapping/draining funds & not paying taxes & D.C. ambivalent / businesses aren't hiring because of costs beyond a salary, hidden costs can add as much as 35%, far exceeding govt crony communism stimulus bailouts; govt ballooning budget & healthcare legislation to blame; businesses won't take risks w/o growth, D.C actively trying to make things worse; a salary, perks, unemployment, disability insurance, workers' compensation, state unemployment, medicare & social security insurance, is a jobs killer.

What do you do when D.C. drives costs up w/ hidden taxes and the seizure of health insurance, ("Uncle Sam's fix it clinic"), it causes reluctance for progress; (what happened to being able to by health insurance across state lines, individually, for competitive pricing as oppose to health coverage extorting the dole like the welfare state does?) next beware state sponsored terrorism, or federal continue the search for retribution w/ barbarism filling their minds; FREE IRAN, DEATH TO THE DICTATOR, PROTECT THE PROTESTERS, DEFEND DEFECTORS,; federal employees average twice the compensation as private sector workers and federal salaries grow twice as fast, one step for society and two steps back for everyone in it, (for the slowly)

Govt underinvestment/underachieves/underestimates in education, & allows banks to aggressively lend debt & understating inflation to hide the deceit; govt has abandoned us in the Usa, federal wages meet minimum cost of living and the working class is in mortgage and debt to stay alive, this is called wage slavery, "the company store", Britain went through this during the rescinding of their empire - public choice theory - their govt did a study which revealed they needed 5K more people to not be employees of the country; walking zombie liberals who attack free choice and defend what is hostile to their valued things of life; because none of them were paying taxes;

1 in 12 children are born of illegal immigrant (Usa) / 500k jobs lost each week, the doomed irresponsible recovery plan of the D, liberals and irreverent (daydreamers) is failing to prevail as warned and expected, it was instituted by those who would not listen and those who defiled the truth / 30k of a town of 40k horde for application for a 10 year waiting list for only 13k at best applications dependent on the state or desperate for leadership / 3 million foreclosures a year, worsening perpetually; caused by mass unemployment that further aggravates the problems; "have gun, will travel" - 200 years of progress wiped out by elitists and aristocrats; 300k a month for 2 years, notices that people are behind on mortgage payments that they wouldn't need w/o totalitarianism (nothing left under inflation); govt yearly deficit around 200B & A.P.R. interest, (and impromptu expenses) they are extreme radical majority poisoning the hearts and minds of the future; jobs leave our shores everyday, if it costs less, save the money, now more than ever, if you think Usa tax rates aren't the cause of this, than you're crazy (and we need those jobs).

Society's simple vanities are not ready to revert to the middle ages, obtuse regulation and taxes are causing unemployment; highest corporate tax rates in the world & begging "tax the rich," w/o teaching the poor while ignoring the huge gap between the two is financial morality not ethics and to debate the logic; halt the logic, pragmatism not idealism, save dreams for the children; & Usa taxes on global income, this is not an incentive in the slightest; as investors abandon the dollar (internationally) as finances get 'bailed-out' to have money to further lobby capitol hill w/ newly revoked campaign contribution limits; I hope the treasury bleeds the national bank dry in legislation and legislators; (exploit the leak) ; bank fees on the rise to beat the coming storm; & not lending to the ingenious, to the inventive innovators & still suffering mandates for sub-prime loans that causes more govt spending, 'bail-outs', irresponsibility & bad assets & bad portioned derivatives, (more bad assets), that further freezes the credit market (or should I say 'burns in hell's frantic temper' ?) ; companies hoarding cash & not hiring because of lack of liquidity, mired in liberal confusion, panic & disaster;

New regulations w/o limits, regulators causing extortion and bureaucratic pomp, the old laws ignored & new laws of fascism, adding costs & burdening a system of faltering false truths & corrupt govt; held by taxes again, violence ensues counteracted by inflation & the legalization of atrocities the same as has been of time immemorial; the return on equities falls, interests in stock & therein the company itself falls, no growth, no new jobs; GDP falls, (the circle of leeching taxes & welfare entitlements, collapses) flat or down, people begin to starve, crime begins to grow, population surely grows, no stability w/o the policies (of growth/to grow) / D, including Obama hates business, he wants (like many D) to have simple lives & simple solutions, "need food, kill food", checker players & not chess players, philistine neanderthals; with smart-phones;

White House has had no use in business and no experience w/ business, & no one in current administration w/ any business experience, (maybe some fake charities and tax cheats) none who've ever met a payroll, none even considered remotely close to The White House (including senate and congress) ; how could they (career politicians) handle & consider the aspects of business w/o the experience; this economy wanes, the public knows it but keeps running from success, praising the reward and not the efforts vis-à-vis, making none; unemployment levels are critical while 'lame-stream' media, (a.k.a. the piss-worthies), won't hold the White House & Capitol Hill accountable. The English head of state, w/ the shared opinion of all of Europe (they know it doesn't work, from their experience) asked the C.I.C. to stop the spending, & he would not, in fact he urged the opposite; no more black or white, left or right, correct or wrong when life needs fair AND balanced.

Socialism is cruel to poverty, (flat tax, consumption tax?) overtaxed underrepresented, from slavery, to segregation, to bureaucratic welfare state & an employee of the govt is not experiencing freedom & is not the mentality of entrepreneurship, is missing the American dream; American law, protection of private property, & social liberties, not the irony that is social justice (mob mentality / herd mentality); unemployment @ 99 weeks & people crying for more & no one giving them something to do instead, or putting them on the 'need-to-hire' list; commercial properties in recess is only selling for low prices but not in metropolitan epicenters causing unrest, uncertainty & apprehension, coupled w/ the unwillingness & inability to pay for one-way leftist social programs begets insanity coated in mire; the time is always now to end debts & show the world responsibility to all futures, all lives & children & future generations; 'fate favors the prepared' & success completes the learned few; reason is overrated & games are futile; specific plans & not goals to hope for the best, this govt is tenuous;

No one plans to fail, they only fail to plan, teaching the glory & not how it is gained, unemployment (insurance) is ethically justified but stems the issue as it does not promote growth, it impedes it, w/in both the recipient & the economy, "a penny saved, is a penny earned", an unabashed unfiltered pure earning power, help them help us all, get them jobs. dreaming reveals the truth, aspire for a nation, not a society, be the bigger wheel, you can grind it down, you can't cut a rope longer, the world on a string will need helping hands, release the pressure of payroll taxes, make credit accessible to those w/ proven success rates via the 'consumer protection agency', end regulations that only increase taxes and racketeering, written by people who've never run businesses; 'bourgeoisie beat-it', business people are resilient, capitalism will go 'underground' and social services will vanish for the impoverished after long wait;

If you have a talent it doesn't mean you're intelligent; knowledge comes w/ experience, don't let people gamble your livelihood; business sort-of revolves around the tenet that if you make what people like, they give you money, does anyone want to pay socialist taxes, silence is golden; when "created or saved" means tax & spend, expect revolt; the world is flat, it is just in 3D so you can't tell; even if you convince yourself you won't be telling the truth, (White House says jobs are created but the jobless and job loss numbers do not lie), White House touts (randomly shouts) numbers that are impossible to prove, "created / saved" (unless they meant govt jobs and contracts) - erroneous half-truths spoken in true doublespeak to blithely assure businesses; & deficits grow; consumed with concerns about position, growth & shareholders, has driven the country in two, the bureaucracy only gives an iota for shareholders, worshiping corporate society as they become the machine; making their own divestment into the hive & not the spiritual mind; anyone can burn the candle at both ends, leaders are the 'kings among men';

A federal lawsuit was filed against AZ trying to enforce a federal law; illegals being made slaves (not all) & will be until they're 'on the books' in our records, the most developed country & no border; close the lines & let more in than you do now Legally, & you might get the literate and ingenuity & put an end to the home grown liberal terror ('ignore it and it goes away') bullshit; less influx of illegals means less illegals with felonious intentions; let them use the 'front door'; Americans & most of humanity is to provide for their families & children, to build & continue to strengthen a middle class society that has been the birthright of every human since the dawn of time, (infer divine providence not manifest destiny...); the life condition of fellows is relevant to the logic of society; and some immigrants aren't deported while a 3rd offense D.U.I. killed a nun the other day; why does he have citizenship & a fucking driver's license & someone has to pay for both w/ their life and my taxes? a business has a contingency fund - & not misconceived opportunities, be realistic and cut deficit spending or help small businesses & stop taxing exporters, (internationally not interplanetary or intergalactic)(stock ticker STFU on the Fiction 500 board); an energy system of ecological technology as a public works program would get things going; the 14th amendment says people's babies will be citizens but it doesn't say illegal immigrants get that liberty, they're here illegally, they don't get amendments or the bill of rights, you don't need to change the law, just send a fucking memo, fraudulent issuing of birth certificates should be 500K$ fine or 5 years in jail, mandatory minimum;

The central bank has the power to print currency, control of the treasury, no rainy day war-chest fund, the ability to cause monetary inflation, (possibly hyper-inflation) in a process called wage slavery; when asked the why, they (the nation's central bank) have the power to print money for its own debt and not the govt it states that the law gave them the power years ago & stalemates at that point; but we can keep it (central bank), it will only cost 10%-15% additional unemployment overnight, nationwide, every time an economic inflationary bubble they caused collapses, the unemployment will progress in the face of capitalism if inflation & not tribulation, continues; even in communist countries the national bank is state owned. China is 4k years older than I am, who am I, I am the Western Empire, English is not a second language, it is the divine language. Alice In Wonderland, is taboo in China, because it personifies animals, they are a scientific community (by nature), some can say we all are, all of this as America raises 'bean counters', liberal politicians & conservative artists;

By the by, a conservative loves the forest for the trees, a liberal wants to slash and burn for paper, brushes, canvases, paints and oils to draw the forest; the hawk loves the canvas whatever is drawn (egos aside) the snake thinks it is never finished; the republican argues the blank canvas is ready to sell, the democrat thinks it would sell more as art & both scare the customers, what good is left or right if you're hitting a wall, be a patriot, not a plant; illegal immigrants become slaves & serfs & worse when there is no LEGAL immigration reform & border surveillance; (until then - As Is/O.B.O.), 120(Fahrenheit) degrees in the shade, feels like hell, no amnesty only refugee, that is the low; if only the money was gold backed & treasury notes again, then stimulus funds would have done more than it did; but the tax payers are on the line as they are w/ national debt (agreed debts) w/ monetary interest rates due/owed to the national bank that prints our money & the debt would vanish if they reverse inflation as we pay debts; the national bank's balance-sheet/asset-list gets bigger, but it does with its own money, 'book-book', worth the paper because capitalists use currency exchanges, not countries, (why do I imagine the king banker to be tiny and listen to shitty music?)

I reject your reality and substitute it with my own; on earth as it is in Valhalla; (1 ticket for Valhalla please); why pay more for less, who dares deceive & divide, do the earners give enough or do the weak give a damn of the cost of failure (in the higher ranks) they routinely overcharge for substandard product that would not even have those & losing money, I wouldn't - 'variety is the spice of life', nothing ventured nothing learned; fraud by means of paying inmates, stimulus to kids and/or their stolen identities, subsidies to dead patients written by dead doctors, bridges where there is no water, rubbish excess, book value for inventory, attacks on the best consumers & their paychecks, hidden taxes, out of control and under fire, (stop feeding the beast that bites the hand that feeds it) history serves as a damning series of hard evidence that inexperienced progressive decisions do not work, but as the name changes the song remains the same;

In my sovereign world, treason is unacceptable; a humble, modest, meek govt will revive an economy (just avoid dangerous hedonism) amiable amnesty; aid state sovereignty w/o destroying it w/in viable constitutionality; to tempt with bribe is to remove the earned natural rights; work to earn, live to dream; a federal income tax, prohibitions, reserve currencies, agents provocateur, forced globalism (before its time), anarchy (opposition to defense / self preservation), serves only to create an income gap (high class & low class) that cracks like ice; progressives march to get new shoes, if they knew where the holes in their shoes were, they wouldn't be marching to get new shoes, and often consumed by hate (& will use yours to take your place);

They say he never existed, needed heaven to get to the next life and your souls to enter, exiled such as humanity, some of us are better than others. Sleep and corruption, someone must draw the line, unions must have limits, there is no right to strike against public safety; send them running in the misgivings they create, as they cry "foul!", use the order of the nation to fortify, conserve the truth about the lies or will come economic collapse, war, terrorism of radicals & ideologues, civil unrest, mafia & political coups; (megla/megalo-mania is the first sign of an aggression, never the last); "the happiest days of mankind are written on the blank pages of history"; cutting taxes & spending, rationally, can increase growth by 60% putting USA/us into positive growth once again; people who don't pay income tax still get the benefits of the rich having more money to spend, if the rich pay less tax they invest more and there is more jobs; I just reached the point where liberal heads explode and banksters get angry, see if you have great wealth, interest on saving accrues & bankers don't want to pay that, taxes removes this wealth, but their liberal puppets never knew this, so they do not believe what they cannot see; since the national bank prints money, any instance of trickle-down economics would create a renaissance, money literally growing on trees, (than all you need do is convince the law to return to work, in communism cops are the most underpaid); (>and if every one has money in the bank, everyone is owed interest payment<)

In what is understood as finance capitalism, taxes then come subtly w/o oppression. as special interests like socialist narco terrorists & fossil fuel barons in 3rd world countries learn this / the left is revisionist, white lies and partial truths to shelter the youths. the right is conformist, 'convert now or fall forever', or at least pick something and stick w/ it, independence lives on glory road. And in come the aspiring fascists, hoping to one day be an 8 inch dictator, or pianist, breaking the social contract (the constitution) & telling you what deals you can and cannot make, & protectionist favoritism policies that destroy the nation, (w/o transparency), and a lost generation unemployed w/o tax revenue to pay for entitlement programs & lost causes - hooray, sensationalism meets nihilism;

Why can't the states stay solvent? (w/ a clean balance sheet) w/o federal subsidy bribes w/ stipulations based in debt/gambler logic; sell-out will meet w/ tooth & nail, only the workers w/ the tools & no one to nail into the coffins; it is a right to have a gun (and representation), - dog will hunt - no radical 'communist-separatists' like the RAF were, no reason to pick-up arms, we already have them, if The Bill of Rights are veritably verily given by god semantically - they are the rights of the individual (in divine euphoric all), the world isn't flat but it didn't have edges for quite some time - it is of course still and always a battle for your mind / manufactured chaos, corruption and anarchy, defamation of character, the issue of my own role has come forth w/ much my woe, equality is questioned in and of tariffs, churches fall before the false idols with wicked wisdom & kings rise from oceans of blood, eventually no one pays taxes & every one is wealthy, the outsiders echo in time or join the empire, those who cannot accept what they see, who commit crime, will be removed or become a dog of war, the king's chess as it were;

The weather underground erodes & destroys as the union underground becomes life that grows in the light of the empire & rests easily (& carelessly) in the darkness; the sects will be allowed & they will kill the king, but the law, government & official decorum will remain intact, ("and we have not yet begun to fight") - current day... (if at first you don't succeed) you've a govt strikingly resembling a virus nontransparent, that kills public opinion that differs, you strike out, but the minds of the children are young naive & full of plans, plans that need funds, we are so easily entranced by the lights, or a story in a second world, if the pied piper plays their favorite tune, they'll dance to the organ grinder; give them what they want, teach them to kill, (simply Pavlovian) it has worked before this, corruptible minds taught of begotten malice until a counterculture develops, the seedy underworld, spreading the perpetuated lies through the opiate of the masses until the brink of total new world order domination! - but you are not safe so soon, defilers & saboteurs of prosperity, ("you cant kill the metal, the metal will live on") support a cause, learn the laws; dangerous game this human tribe, this holy diatribe, if you're wrong who will tell you, who will you trust; for the righteous, being a leader is simple, who doesn't want the 'easy-seat', the conspiracy can consume the wounded;

Will workers & money men both pay the piper?, HS graduate unemployment highest in the nation's history; terrible to not respect the kids and their future (do pedagogues profligate progress' priceless promise?) where is the reform for small business lending, limits on bank leverages, higher capital requirements for derivatives & higher levels of credit; Washington(D.C.) is sucking money from the state unless, to worsen the dependency directive & continue the lies, of the welfare state; pride comes from success, personal efforts & honor; only the repressed would deny "sweet emotion". 300 agencies of economic development, paid to play the tune of waste, fraud and abuse, propagated by minimizing and denying or blaming; money is more easily spent w/o a middleman (person) stealing; by the hands of its owner; ("we must take these first steps"), ("and do the other thing"), "too big to fail", 'bailouts' funded by tax payer dollars became bureaucratic slush funds, the 'vig' stolen, the principle loan stolen, & the debt climbing on the walls over everyone's head; (money laundering) (small business loans being laundered through D.C.?) no empathy for endearing sentiments as the thieves ignore the border and cartels lead like the piper bringing in new violently conditioned criminals by the day.

The workers protest absent overlords that steal to build a tower to space, the people see how out-of-touch this brood of snakes really are, a sea of change because 'lame ducks' do not listen; govt spending, budget negating deficits & failed policies, money for unions taken from food assistance budgets, (blame game distractions) for entitlement programs (and now they do less for more) and the kids suffer & soon won't know any better (zombie and vampire clubs?) because they'll be too stupid, raised in ignorance, adopting the herd mentality & acting like dogs, (fuxxy math), a weakened country, tax cartels in D.C., (SUPPORT THE TROOPS), & the pension pyramid scam schemata/plan; high unemployment & other factors still pose real challenges to housing (amateurs) but what of war, invasion, drugs & cash, guns, riots, hedging battles from afar, ethnic cleansing, (been there, done that, drank the blood of my enemies from their skulls, got salmonella because they're all chicken shit, & and all I got was this lousy t-shirt) - no piece escapes the board, cults and religions are the same thing, find faith then seek the truth (you might not have to go very far); you'll never know the name of evil, even if you kill millions as consumer confidence & demand returns; until we do, expect debt burdens of higher & even higher taxes with lower pay. abundance is plenty, pace is good, prices drop & states can nullify emergency mandates, when free trade returns to the lives of the citizens so that we may once again be at all levels equal and united.

10 August 2010

Merlin 2 - 5 The Aviary

Merlin 2 - 5 The Aviary

The hallway to the aviary tower has no door at its ground entrance, only two guards who part when they recognize David, but only after he states his intentions and directions, reluctantly. A cathartic silent passage, the warriors, the unique skills of each, the weapons, games, clothing, training, fealty of the better half as the wayward warrior David's priorities enter into flux with the addition of these new stewards, among their journey through the wide winding stairwell to the upper levels of which he had never been. The ceiling dark beyond shadow, the stones hugely stoic, the winding and rising passage perfect and nearly seamless by those that had appended the city to it several ages prior and had not left their name, perchance the figures etched in time.

The statues and the shape of the courtyard strike open the long aged memories of Nickolas, reminding him of being turned to stone, nearly itself an age ago as he vicariously reminisces with his memories in reverie, induced by a statue of a pontiff in long robe and deeply hooded standing above the spiraling floor.

David: "What king could carve these?"
Nickolas: "It was any artist with good aim."
Ana: "It gives a sense of solace and discretion."
Nickolas: "I wish to prove my diversity from statues always."
David: "Why do you conduct a rage for stone?"
Nickolas: "For I used to be one as penance decreed by my elders."

Nickolas flits from them up the corkscrew corridor in silence passed the high windows of the winding tower in chosen silence. He spoke ahead from the fining shadows in revelation, the echoes seething in revolution viding the tunnel that wraps upward the spire to clairvoyant heights.

Ana: "It was for his especial behavior."
Nickolas: "My lieges were the donors of malicious punishment."
David: "Where was this?"
Nickolas: "It was long ago."

The echo speaks for the shades and sculptures. Large wooden doors hang to the sides of the tower hall with ledge windows open and unattended, from within the aviary a well-girthed man in straps and bushy long beard comes to the window. A shorter old fellow whose arms rest level with the windowsill as he holds the edge with long leather gloves with a straight-line stitch across the side.

Warden: "Show me your patents."

They stand in wait inasmuch confused to the statement. David stands and watches, waiting for something to shake him from confusion, when there is none, he commands their progress.

David: "He'll need to see your pass."
Nickolas: "We don't have one; we've come to see our friend."
Warden: "Who would that be?”

The aviary warden eyes the party three awaiting an answer so short his mouth barely raises the ledge and speaks with a highly exaggerated cadence.

Ana: "We seek a boy who rides a red phoenix."
Warden: "Excellent, have ye any money?"
Nickolas: David: "Who are you?”
Warden: "I am he who tends the aviary, your friend had barely enough for wyrm eggs...and if ye haven't any fortune than he shan't be staying and ye won’t be coming in!"
Ana: "Very well troglodyte."

Ana lifts her dress meretriciously over her shin, draws out a pouch, and puts it to the worn ledge, the warden stares fascinated, Nickolas was at the side of the window before the keeper's attention breaks holding a knife and tapping the tip of the blade until the caretaker notices him. When the governor does, Nickolas directs his attention to the bag by pointing his knife to it.

Ana: "And now you have the proclivity."

The warden looks through the pouch of ceded furlough fortune, with an open mouth stunned he then stuffs it into his vestment.

Warden: "You'll have to help me pull on the door, I’m a bit unable."

They pull on the heavy oak timber door, it creaks and sways open to them, revealed is a porcelain corral, in this moment the aviary’s keeper beckons and sends errand two assistants. In the distance the open sky and drawbridge doors that are slid open, closer an ornate corral made of vespertine penitence, not the ingratiating contrite of dusty streets or muddy pasture, perhaps the stolen stone of Valhalla grafted to the chambers of aviary magnificent delight. Each stall has bars over the top and some are complete cages. The aged operate had let them open the doors themselves, and was moving the brooms and shovels his assistants were using and checking the locks on closed stables of the many unique creatures used in winged transport and original purveyance, some of which are neonate enduring rearing by their maternal counterparts.

Ana approaches the open skylight leading their trek as workers bring two shovels of food and pour it before the phoenix, the bird shakes the stale air from its down and walks with staunch lanky long legs to the pile pushing Troy aside when they notice him. Troy, the burgeoning rider of an unnamed as of yet phoenix, pushed from the stall walls, waving to them and bathed in heavy light. With humble nature he would rather the relationship stay platonic with the courtesan who herself is using the services of the aviary with a paddock across the way from he and his phoenix, though inclined to disappear into the rays of light and pillar shadows without his noticing, conceivably their discourse a planned fate to reconvene elsewhere.

Next to his stall without conveyor, a winged snake with a saddle born and scorn into its backside that lashes at them striking its cage door and causing a slight posh unrest with the phoenix.

Warden: "Is there anything else that I may offer ma'am?"

They stare at the serpent's cage in disgust and intrigue at the festering odoriferous refuse, dank and malodorous from friable serpentine exuviae of the winged snake with a lack of eyelids to cover obsidian eyes.

Ana steps to the terrace to look over the Midgard land, galliard consternation, anent the frayed ends of sanity to the north the great Jotun Mountains with the heart of winter heartily sleeping on the promontory mount Thule. High upon a pedestal steppe sits the capital city torn in two by the raging Slidr River and connected with an iron bridge, tiny like a child’s toy in the far distance. Below the North-Wall the thick green Niflheim Forest with the fog gathering above, against the mountain foothills, gathering over the treetops and raining on the cold forest of often dense fog with an eagle flying deep in the distance over the silent forest.

A beautiful serenity, frosted and vibrant growing with spring veins, the swell of hills like a green ocean of free legend, the essences of light and comfort surrounding the day of clear skies and open eyes bathed in glorious sunlight. Nickolas is quietly walking to Ana, watching her stand radiant in a coat of light given from the sky, from left to right and looks upon the realm likewise.

Nickolas: “You shouldn’t stare at the pines in the summer.”
Ana: “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Nickolas: “It is a lovely endless beauty.”
From behind, Nickolas wraps his arms around her and kisses her temple once.
Ana: “Why shouldn’t I stare?”
Nickolas: “Because you’ll miss the harvest.”

Their amorous love is avid and apparent, lucky to unfold in such the magnificent view of the convoluted city and the surrounding domain, to the rated reason it seems a perfect union of their vanities in copious beauty to the passing birds. Propitiatory love unconditional gleaned of common affinity so escorts them by this towerous spire to accompany the others in stand and pending altruist business at the high court.

Warden: "Sorry about that, its owner has been in the city for some time."

Nickolas introduces David to Troy and vice verso, including a tenderfoot phoenix that is curious yet by some common chance easily taking offense as David reaches his hand to the bird’s head as it bows to him. In private solace, Ana speaks to the keeper of the high tower in an aside, to reproof the shorted funds given to Troy and the proper instructions.

Ana: "This bird is new and so is its rider. He needs proper accoutrements and saddlery, nothing to heavy."
Warden: "Will this be for battle?"

With calm adjure Ana looks to her companions and speaks through most of her twee smile.

Ana: "No less than mages, I didn't spend a plenty...get away from there!"

In her absence, they have begun enticing the reptile, dancing and mocking the arcane predator snake. She walks to them to quiet their adolescence and blatantly readied puerile discourse. In the amassed muck and mire, the serpent had laid eggs, hidden them in the layers of sediment, and retted hay sequentially tossed over the seeping filth, one of such which has hatched crawls into the adjoining stall of the phoenix. The phoenix promptly notices the slithering hissing tail-foot and begins to peck and claw in attempt to strike the slithering hatchling until it dies and then its consumption.

Perilous motive the hope of ill fate strikes the young master Troy sinking fangs and immediately torn loose, Nickolas is a bladed savant complete in the fulsome knowledge of courtly competitiveness and he uses his skills to strike a dagger into the newborn black serpent of death with a single throw. The phoenix shrills of fret and concern and opens its wings slightly before jumping forward breaking the inadequate rope tied of itself and sets on Troy as if to hatch him as he uselessly protests.

When he finally gets free of being pinned, the phoenix will not rise, merely preening itself, it detests with avidly apparent objection to filth, to seem oblivious to what has occurred. Troy's wound is filled and glowing with orange gold dust that seemed to pumice the inchoate wound with dark light and his distemper.

Warden: "Get a Flamberge over here!"

The warden rings a rusting bay bell as the once flippant now look over the gash filled with the renowned glamour of warm energy and protensive lunar silver.

Troy: "What happened?"
Warden: "Your friend saved you."
Troy: "I meant this wound."
Warden: "So did I lad.”
Nickolas: “Needn’t you worry, snake venoms are often prey specific.”

Arden: "What is it sir?"
Warden: "Get flame swords and hunt out any eggs in that cell, we just had an incident."

Footsteps heard coming from the hall convene as another page arrives and begins to scratch his head while staring at the sparkling wound. The second boy is a twin of the other, slapped on the back of the head by the first as the warden waits ominously for the boys’ prudent affiliation to return on task.

Warden: "You can go get the dogs and put one on each side of that cage and one in front, and find the rider; I want this thing out of here."
Arden: "Is the damage done?"
Warden: "The sooner this peril ends the better."
Andrew: "What happened?"
Arden: "Ne’er-do-well spawns hatchlings."

A dull expression marks his face altering the appearance of confusion, but their attention swiftly vanishes out of the room behind them before they chase after it. The first rushes after the second as they race to retain their behest, as Troy and the others all staring at them wish the excursion to haste, which they view with a bit of odd confusion. They all had clearly seen one of them delivering the feed by shovel load to the phoenix with another but had not noticed them simultaneously, the explanation achieved in a quorum waiting in the wings.

08 August 2010

Cliches and Dead Metaphors

Sharp waves where only the silhouettes dare,
In the golden wheat fields where the devil may care,
From where onlookers sit and peddle their ware,
To the old as dirt passers who swim in the fare,

Put the dozen in half open windows for pots,
Cross the eyes and the tease for the dos and do nots,
Leave the rest for the baker take one from the lots,
and wait for the cats where the rocking-chair rots,

A bird in the hand worth two in the trap,
Are worse than the bag that can't hold all the crap,
Here's the thumb in the pie from the dusty old chap,
Shaking sticks at the floor of everything's hap,

It rolls off the tongue and gets under the skin,
The jack of all trades if you're living in sin,
To be killing the well of the battle within,
While out on the trail and with your evil twin,

Send the early to bed and bird at the rise,
Jump over the candle give the worm a surprise,
Get the door at your mercy the binds for the ties,
Stare the sun if you're worthy with too many eyes,

Hit the ground like the wind and light on your feet,
Then the door to your dreams by the edge of your seat,
Such a barrel of laughs when you bail on the street,
The beginning of ending easy as incomplete,

The seeds of doubt flair with something I said,
Should you lend me a hand or my better off dead,
The sorrow so blue while the roses are red,
While I'm trapped in a zoo and it's all in my head.

05 August 2010

Night Terrors 7 - Dead Man

Night Terrors 7 - Dead Man

Holding his arm and running down the alley the archangel flees, rushing into dumpsters and not looking back at the quaking alley in the vision of a wounded man running out of time and out of life. He jumps to a fire escape and climbs to the roof, in the old quarter, the old city right on the ocean now dastardly poisoned that tinges the air with the scent of fuel and firearms, the rooftop entrance is easily entered, he has only to make it to the roof the distance from the top of the scaffold stairs. The tribal marshals hardly notice the trencherman enter his chosen edifice, into dark hallways and desolate lodgings guilty as sin and scolded as it were in the olden.

The hallway dark he chooses a door without light shining from beneath it or through peephole, the conundrum would be to survive and as much explain to the proprietor how he had come to reside so uninvited. He closes the door and grabs the first shirt he sees and drops like a pile of bricks before an old reclining chair, he begins to tear the strips as the lights from the streetlights, billboards and flight path lights shines through the slits in the old window-blinds. As he wipes the gore from a wound on his arm, the air is still as simple space. While tying a makeshift tourniquet around the wound he knocks a clear vase with dead flowers to the stone floor, the glass shatters and every crack tears the night and every shard heard sliding the floor. Fervid primitive instinct stares to the body on the bed in the room, laying on one side and not moving.

Arkan: "Fine, don't awaken, but know I don't clean."

The body remains lifeless, so riddled with intrigue Arkan rises to see if the body breaths. It is a dead and empty shell, not to far old for the chord yet not stricken. He rolled the body back of a sleeping older man, the shadows crawl the wall too dark to witness in even bright fires with blackened eyes of mystery, staring from the precipice of the netherworld shadows waiting for him to unravel the clue bound within the dank walls. The proximity bracelet upon the wrist of the occupant is solid red, the monitor signal of death and sign of existing beacon. The door bursts open, the noise of the breaking glass or the comment he had made has roused them to investigate. They like himself had no wrist indicator, they were the infamous 'dead men' of the seedy catacombs called so both for the term the emperor uses to describe them and of self proclamation in an effort to more easily accept the idea of such.

Miscreant: "We're going to need your food old man."
Arkan: "You're too late."

Arkan lifts the deceased person's limb and shows them the red light and they dash into the dark hall, their feet running fast. There is unfortunate ill concept to abrupt their escape that greets with several high-caliber, swift gunshot at the end of the hall. To his feet faster than the floor and to the door, his hands wrap the doorway and he pulls himself through the egress and spins the turn, he 's only one flight of stairs to ascend for roof access and ever-so lucky that they weren't the same as the main stairwell. A desolate stare at the end of the hallway as he sees that he has a right turn to make as the hell hounds charge after him several paces that they traverse faster than he, through the turn he bounds for the door. Three dogs the proven pack hunting commonality chasing him, he slams the door to a stairwell that leads to the roof in full moonlight, and the door slams shut so swiftly that it decapitates the foremost hound. Of the other two, the first cur strikes a clawed paw into the door just above the handle bar and whips the door open. Arkan had dropped a grenade down into the stairwell, it blasts through the demonic mongrel, the door rips from its hinges and tears through the other hellion centurion and the immediate wall as Arkan flees across the rooftops.