Twenty

( saga of the streets)


1

It didn't seem to matter
As hard as he always tried
His thoughts would become scattered
Seeing hate come from another mans eyes

Someone else controlling his livelihood
Hate, prejudice, identities forgotten
Coulda, woulda, and then ending up at shoulda
His ancestors must have went through this, when they picked cotton

Analyzing the risks, knowing exactly what he would be up against
Getting his money from the streets would be tough
But going about it the other way was draining his strength
So he invested his resources in a sack, this was how he would come up



Now it was on, his sympathy gone
Wading through the cut throats and those who chose this game to play
His hours on the block would be from dusk to dawn
Rocks for $20 chips that he could parlay

Watching those who were watching, believing the police are crooks too
Always in his face with strange behavior, it’s as if he was their savior
He sold to addicts, those disenfranchised, even the well to do
Needles in their arms, lips around a pipe, a fix, the only reason why they labor

Having justified in his mind , this means to his ends
He reflects on a corrupted society that included him too
Counting his money was always how the days would begin
Thinking only about what his $20 bills will do

2

To him the war on drugs was a joke
Strolling the streets all night and sleeping all day
There never was a day where he couldn't choke
Always broke, but always finding a way

Never knowing, never caring how much time he would waste
Scandalous thoughts with misguided intentions
His mind constantly racing, while eating food he didn't taste
Living in denial, claiming this lifestyle was not his invention

He didn't think it odd, a plume of smoke being his god
His dignity now exiled
In and out of jail, his second home is the "A" pod
Because he always seemed to fit the description, or the profile

Homeless, having lost all feeling
Always on the alert for what he could steal and fence
Never would you find him with his head bowed, or kneeling
Praying to anyone for anything just didn't make sense

There was nothing on streets that he hadn't seen
Always lit up, not giving a fuck, and never getting enough
A life that is a blueprint on how to give up, instead he feigns
His hair never combed and he's always looking rough

Somehow the voices of his habit keep calling him
These evil spirits are the only ones that he will acknowledge
…and so that is the company he feels most comfortable in
To live his peace, this private heaven and hell, costs only 20 dollars


3

She was her own worst enemy
Never afraid of the worlds oldest misdemeanor
Still haunted by the wicked smile that stole her virginity
Now used to anonymous souls who pay to lay in between her

Over time, it became easy to shut everything off
There was always a sham, or a way to hit a lick
Faith, trust, and forgiveness were the things at which she scoffed
Now all she wants to do is slam, and sees' everyone as just tricks

Disregarding the weather, her disdain beyond measure
Walking her beat, in the middle of a tweak
Eyes on high beam, ready to indulge in her twenty dollar treasure
Another John rolls up hoping to reach his peak

A deep sigh taken right before again selling her soul
She feels his rough skin and smells liquor against his breath
Strangely with each passing thrust, she felt in control
While in all actuality, her spirit was dying another death

Despondent, ignoring the risks and spewing her scorn
She hasn't seen her children in months
The dealer takes her money, now to score, again she must perform
All because she could only afford to pay for her fronts

Paranoid, with her esteem in need of repair
Her arms display the footprints left by misery
She STILL can only think of one way to remove this despair
…and that is to produce another twenty


Rory


©RJ2008/10 originally written in 2008 with final edit in '10

Ominous Inclination

(a short story)

What exactly came over me I can’t really say
I do know that it was demonic in nature
The principle I have stood for the most
That being live and let live had been subverted
In an instant my morality came crashing down inside me
Like a thunderous bolt of lightning
Now as I sit here within the streaming puddles of blood
My shirt drenched by the blood of his vanity and disregard
I find that I feel no remorse
Only a malevolent sense of pleasure
Ridding this world of what I’m sure has been a lifelong nuisance
Certainly he had this coming
I hear the sirens of the authorities hastily approaching
Soon I will be handcuffed and whisked away
To pay my karmic debt for my own refractory behavior
Gladly I will do so
I will not hide or seek any favorable circumstance
Only reveal the truth as to what spurred my action

As I remember
It was a hot and muggy day
Traffic was heavy in the city
We had just sat through the second cycle of red light
Perhaps there was an accident further ahead
So much pressure was on our road system with no relief in sight
Starring into what had became the third red light
My sight began to get blurry almost like I were dizzy
I felt the onset of a migraine headache as traffic had only inched forward
At the same time the fellow in the car next to me began blasting his music
The problem wasn’t so much the music itself
The problem was how the music sounded
400 watts of a scratchy, raspy, rattling gibberish
Mostly treble with no discernable bass line
It was so loud that it played over the music in my own vehicle
Even after rolling up my car windows and turning off my own music
Constant thumping and irritation
I looked over at the fellow and gestured my surrender
Hoping that he would turn it down to a more acceptable volume
As a return gesture, he flashed a some hand sign at me
Turning the music up even more
Louder, LOUDER, even LOUDER
My nerves were wrangled, my migraine full blown
He began laughing having recognized my discomfort
I snapped
Reaching into my glove box
I grab my hunting knife
Quickly I get out of my car and run over to his
First I slice his neck
Realizing what happened
He opens his car door and attempts to fend me off
I stab him twice in the stomach
He falls to the ground hitting his head a landing on his back side
I kneel over him
Stabbing him in the stomach and chest areas of his body
With blood spurting everywhere I continue stabbing uncontrollably
I can see the utter horror in his eyes until...
...finally they roll to the back of his head
Life flees from his body

The blaring sirens are very close
As I mentally prepare for what is to happen next
For what is to become of the rest of my life
To my surprise I notice the sirens have passed by
Their volume dissipating into the distance
So too does the music from the fellow’s car next to me
Snapping out of it
I begin to wonder, where are the detectives, where is the crowd of onlookers
Looking up, my vision is clear and the light has turned green
Traffic begins moving
Many cars are honking, certainly relieved, perhaps even overjoyed
Wiping the sweat off my brow
I realize that the cars behind are honking at me
Finally I too drive off and carry on
Good thing traffic has finally cleared up
Two more seconds and I would have wound up killing that guy


Rory


©rj2011

Homage To My Special Place

the sun has given way
a few clouds have appeared
shortly after, the first of the night stars arrive
as the starlight glistens atop subtle waves
once again I am astounded by the evening sky
such a glorious portrait nature has stenciled
breathing in the cool, crisp air
the  surrounding commotion of the day, slowly relenting
finally silence
then reverence
more than a mere conception
peace and oneness reawakens within me
I feel the familiar presence of my friend, the star in the distance
looking up towards it, I smile
on this night, together we laugh
it’s light as shone on me many of nights
watching as tears rinsed away my troubles and fears
…as smiles illuminated my joy and ambitions
never flouting against my innermost
always there
then I think of the few with whom this place I shared
considering how the cosmos entwined our individual existence
delicate words
precious feelings
hope, splendor, validation
momentary yet eternal
I can only offer my gratitude
water fowl and other nocturnal creatures gather around
seems they want to share in these serene moments also
drifting away as I often do when I am here
again I can almost touch the stars
all I know is that when I am here
I am all knowing
I know LOVE
tonight I will sit here until the moon gives way

Rory


©rj2011

After The Wind Passed

(written in free form with a diamante)

sitting here, thinking about you
wanting you
remembering all that we used to do
amidst the personal dissonance I had been living
you just sort of appeared
there was no way to predict…
..how your presence would ultimately resonate within me

antipathy
desolate, reclusive,
brooding, doubting, loathing,
ambiguity, hesitancy, energy, nobility
awakening, strengthening, desiring,
benevolent, repentant,
feelings

as you etched your way into my being
I was able to clarify the way I was seeing  things
it got to the point to where…
…it didn’t matter what you said or what you did
sharing togetherness with you became what I lived for
now if I could just to touch the edge of your shadow
once more, even for a moment, your love I will know

Rory

©rj2011

Agatha Loves Her Some Creepy

DEADLY DELIGHTS FROM DOWNUNDER

by  AGATHA FALKNER


Gidday!

I'm writing in this week from a different Location. A nice little watering hole I stumbled into after a long day  running around from meeting to review and back again. Not one of my regular haunts, but you know what they say, whether I'm at the back of bourke or hitting the big cities, you just  never know what you will come across in your travels.  There is a whole world out there to discover, and I have found that, it's whilst going walk-a-bout in those off the beaten track locations(so to speak), I seem to find my rarer, hidden gems, or unpolished diamonds,  just waiting to be discovered by me, while I'm out here, exploring some new and exciting territory.

Let me give you an example.  I was out the other evening, after running from book launch to book signing, and let me tell you, I was hanging for a bevvie or two. Been burning the Midnight oil.  I found a respectable drinking establishment. It was the end of the week, and I was knackered.  All I wanted to do was knock back a couple of gin and tonics, with a twist of lime of course.  But you know me, 2 became 3, and next thing I'm onto the mescal straight up!  After a solid hour of doing my research, I took a few moments to stretch my legs, and back, and to have a squiz around the place.  From the corner of my eye, I notice a book,  sitting on top of a pile of those trendy magazines entitled  “You Can't Play A Player” 

Well the title alone certainly aroused my curiosity.  I had a quick read of the cover, and saw that it was written by some bloke called Thaddeous "Creepy" Rollins.  I'd never heard of him, so I flipped through a couple of pages, and what I saw, was something quite unexpected.  Matey, I'm here to tell you, there is a whole pool of talent out there,  waiting to be discovered.  And this book is a prime example. So much so, that even in my slightly (ok absolutely) blotto state, I know a great thing when I see it. This is one discovery that is too awesome to pass over, and I must tell my readers all about it!

From what I read in this enlightening and edgy piece of work...now mind you...it does not contain proper grammar, or a language your average reader will be familiar with, but is written in its most purest, rawest,  and highly believable form.  It really does have an air of authenticity to it, that most of these bullshit Bobby Dazzlers could ever come up with in a million years.


So a bit about the book This is where I got hooked right from the outset, the premise.

A one night stand leads two people into a web of lies, deceit, double cross and murder as a young woman, desperate to save her sister from a life of drug abuse and prostitution. Goes undercover and hooks up with a man she thinks can help her maneuver the streets filled with hoods and thugs and bring her close enough to the pimp that is controlling her sister. When they finally confront the pimp and buys her sisters way out of the life, the man wants to go back and rob the pimp , that he knew from before, of the other money that he knows he got.

Who writes stuff like this?!  This is hot stuff!  Fully Sic! This is one bonza bloke!
So...why do these up and coming authors always seem to get shoved on the overpass, when quite clearly, they are showing incredible initiative, superb imagination, and masterful talent  (not by conventional standards, but by keeping it REAL standards).  People will go berserk for this kind of real life depiction.  It's streetwise, and highly insightful.  It's a window into worlds that most of us will never get to experience or have to deal with.  The daily dilemmas of living the hard life on the real streets. Here’s an excerpt I thought you might
enjoy….

…so I was sittin’ at my spot, right. Chillin, minding my own biness , you know,  getting my drank on. Now understand that I wasn’t out on the creep or nothing like that. Just tryna get a grip on some thangs in my mind, you know, and needed some atmosphere. The place was hella crowded, right, music  banging, motha fucka’s was in the back slinging. Can’t get mad at ‘em though.  A fella gotsta get his cheese. That’s real talk. Just as long as they ain’t up in here, acking a fool to where can’t nobody else enjoy themselves. Or doing shit that gone cause the police to roll up.

I’m at the bar, right, ‘bout to order me some chicken wings when I look over to my left and notice this baby girl got her head on tilt. She scoping me right, all up and down. I knew she was liking what she was seeing. Even though I wasn’t sporting one of my vine’s or none of my ice. I smiled at her though, right. Told my boy Ant, the bartender to slide her some Hennessy. So now I’m peeping her back right, and I gotsta say, bootylicious. I mean, baby girl was bricked out. A redbone too. Make a fella wanna cuss when he see something that look that good. Which I did, I said to myself. “Motha fucka”.

Anyway, Ant serves her up, right. Now here she come, tryna contain herself, looking all serious. Gone ax me what’s up with me right.  I put my best mack down on her, you know, woo, woo. Then next thing I know she talking ‘bout getting ghost wit a brother right. At first I was like, damn, I ain’t tryna get with no braud tonight, but then I told myself to just go with the flow. We skyed up and fell in over at her crib right. She showed me around her place and all. Baby girl  had it all plushed out. Next thing I know, I’m all up in them boots rights. Blam! I have to admit that I beat it up for awhile, you know, like it was for the world championship.

The next morning I was finna leave but after giving a brother all the butter and sugar he could handle the night before, it was no surprise to me that when I woke up she had already fixed some grits, bacon and eggs. So I figured I would eat before I bounced. I sat down with her, you know, got my grub on. She served me some coffee too. Sitting there thinking, I figured a brother could get used to this. Yeah everything is perfect. Everything was too is perfect, but  still, something ain't right…..

Here's the thing.  If guys like the author of this book, Thaddeous "Creepy" Rollins were given even half a chance, with the natural born killer instincts they possess, they would run rings around these pretentious Clayton dipsticks that are hiding behind fancy titles, who crumble  like a flake when the real shit hits the fan.  The REAL talent is actually right under our noses,  right here...they are tough, streetwise, witty, and highly skilled at their game, legit, the real deal!...oh and did I mention, a good perv.  I tell you, I wouldn't mind getting tanked and having a bit of a pash with this Thaddeuos bloke, especially if he's wearing a pair of budgie smugglers. Until next time Matey's

Written by Rory and Divina

©rj2011 ©Divina

Circumstantial Evidence

it was in the middle of having one of those days
where inside I was feeling somewhat contentious
at the time I wasn’t content with (you name it)
I began considering what (exactly) would be the benefits
…of changing my ways
found myself seeking the counsel of intoxication
not sure why

despite any self imposed ruinations
I do believe that with a new sunrise comes the of opening your eyes
shortly after hitting the block
I came across this brother
his circumstances appeared to be worse than mine
I don’t think he had a place that he called home
unkempt and jagged around the edges
one could tell it had been a while since his hair had been comb
his clothes were ripped and ready to fall off
…and he wreaked badly of alcohol

he approached and says to me, “give me penny, as raggedy as I am”
I said “brother if I had it to give I would”
“got damn”, “that’s what I’m talking about man”,
“everybody taking but ain’t nobody giving”
“I didn’t figure you for one of them”, his reproach
“give me a penny, as raggedy as I am”

He then whisks out a bottle of Thunderbird from one of his pockets. Quickly he twists off the top, takes a couple of swigs and hands the bottle over to me. I recognized the gesture. The brother had given unto me everything he had. A sort of communing.

mad and filled with strife
he needed to be heard
he spoke with some very choice words

told me about how he had tried to make a nice life
paid his taxes
wore the latest fashions
thanked God and lived it up on Friday night
then went to church every Sunday and gave God his tithe
only to come home one day to find someone ran off with his wife

making things worse
he kept getting passed over for promotions
having grown tired of his bosses inertia
he finally raised a commotion and suddenly
…found himself without a job

It was then, according to him, when he made the discovery that keeping up with the Joneses meant keeping oneself fully supplied with the vice they jones for.

After taking a couple of drinks and carefully examining my own thoughts. I returned the bottle to him and went on my way. Wondering if this (his life story, our meeting on the street) is what God wrought?

thinking
questioning
taking in consideration
jonesing for understanding

deviating from my proclivities
needing to calm my nerves

(found my own bottle)

as I began to drown my anxieties
these thoughts emerged

why it is that we continue to live
against the principles of evolution
is beyond my ability to comprehend
how can man claim dominion without having solutions

prosperity for everyone
a concept long lost to
…the profits at all cost demand
instead we are enslaved by a system disguised as democracy

why is it that our cultures still live mostly segregated
rather than fully engaging the differences
we refuse to trust each other, holding fast to trepidation
while  also bringing forth carnage over which is the right religion

apparently we have been successfully propagandized
to the point of becoming collectively docile
confused, desensitized, waiting for Armageddon to crystallize
yet to have the true nature of our consciousness roused


Rory


©rj2011

Someone In Mind

much like when the sun, moon, and earth
… are in perfect alignment
as their combined forces cause the spring tides to occur
such is my attraction to her
each day I gravitate to pictures of her
reiterating to myself, how fine I think she is
at least in my eyes
wishing to have her as mine
I begin to imagine
stopping myself and... starting again
the pleasantries in my mind turn mischievous
once more here I go
caution thrown to the wind
admittedly I just can’t resist
she is, just so voluptuous
her lips
it’s like I can already feel their tenderness
a slow waltz of soft, gentle, seemingly endless kisses
placed all over each other’s physical presence
together kindred spirits laying
adoration, exploration
absorbing the delicate contrasts of our skin
breathing in one another’s essence
breathing becoming breathless
my imagination getting the better of me
I stop myself and... start all over again
evening has fallen
ambiance
lust
surrender
belief
intensity
her lavishing me
me caressing her
together our bodily responses become
heightened radiance
relishing in the idea of (the day will come)
smiling
imagining

Rory

©rj2011