Been afk!

Sorry everyone!  Bad news is I’ve been absent, good news is its because i’ve been crafting a new novel, I think I might share some!

 

The following is a possible later chapter or at worst a deleted scene involving a side character in the novel I’m working on!

Here goes:

 

 

Charlemagne is A Pot Head and He Gets That Done

But with Acid, how much was too much anyway?  White paper upon his tongue he walked through the desert.  If Char had done it ten times, he’d done it twelve ten times.  He could still think.  He could spell.  The practice of economics lay beneath him like a worm squeezed of life.  The pie charts all made sense now and it pointed places, it pointed out of town, out of all the towns.  Something funky in the water, something rotten in the politics.  Char couldn’t put his finger on it.  He kept walking.  How much was too much?

The thing was just ahead of him.  About twelve steps.  That number seemed important today.  He’d watch it.  He had in his hands a book and he held it up high so that he could walk the land between Debauchton and Heaven’s High while reading the text.  The book was pleasant, a collection of Dickenson.  Char had finally developed an appreciation for her.  A fly had just buzzed for dear sweet Emily as the towers of Heaven’s High emerged in the distance.  The walled city was white and resplendent against the scorched brown landscape.  It looked like an alien god’s sentient vomit strewn across an unforgiven and un-scrubbed water closet in a particularly dodgy section of Welsh’s 80’s/90’s era Leith.  Of course all of that was under water by now, Char knew that, of course he knew that!

He was pleased.  The book was done and Ivan would love it.  Two gifts for the price of one stroll!  Char was truly visionary and prodigy amongst drug lords anywhere AND EVERYWHERE!

“OK WHY AM I SHOUTING, THOUGH?” Charlemagne asked

But no one was there to hear him.

“I think I’m wondering, how much is enough?”  He said.

A few ravens flew by him, they were being harried by a brace of adolescent Red Tail Hawks.  The Hawks called in harsh, shrill cries of warning.

“The ravens were in the wrong here man, I’m just passing through.”  Char told them.

He could see the Hawks, they regarded him sternly.  Certainly he knew better than this.  What was he doing getting mixed up with such rough company?  Ravens were terrible creatures.  He reasoned out an apology,

“I’ll leave you this ham right?  And then you know… I won’t let it happen again.  Right?”  Char went down the road and kept on towards Hawksville.  The hawk’s let him go with a warning.  No eyeball pecking.  Just- stern words.  On to Ivan’s pad— He’d be there backpack, briefcase and fanny back all settled and cozy by nightfall.  Just in time for the ceremony of the seasons to finally fucking end.

Fireworks in the distance told him no, not quite yet.  Not over yet.  His buddy was still squirming on stage next to his sexy sister.   Was it weird for him to dig his friends identical twin?  Was he?  Was that…  Char figured it didn’t matter because he’d never act on it anyway.  Belladonna was out of his league.  Char was just a renegade living out on the prairies in the badlands.  Czarina Belladonna Czar was like an angel with a shotgun… She was like vidscreen star and like better… she was like Bog’s sun Bezus…. And she was like the rising sun… then she was the moon… but more like the night sky strewn with stars… a sunset really.  He settled on that.  She was a fucking sunset.  And he was not going to tell her any of that.  Ivan and him.  That meant more than sunsets.  Wait was that… no…

“SERIOUSLY.”

Charlemagne was, he supposed, very, very high.  Somewhere in the distance he could hear the Shins.  It was one of Ivan’s favorites, something off of wincing the night away.  Did that mean it was Ivan’s turn up on the stage?  He grimaced.  Char knew Ivan hated the speeches.  He knew that Ivan usually got pretty loaded himself just to get by up there.  Bog only knew how his dad[1] Cliff got it done.

The Polis of Hawksville loomed before him.  White walls and black towers stretching towards the sky.  Red banners.  Images of vicious predatory birds— the very same Hawk’s Char had been leary of on the way over.  It wasn’t for nothing that he worried.  Sometimes the wild birds were actually robotic scout drones and sometimes the peaceful polis went out to the villages on the badlands and harvested organs from the living— well the living dead he had come to call them.  They were all that out there.   Not even a friendship with a martyr class citizen granted him much safety.  It was just as well.  The world had gone to shit.  Char kept walking.

As the sun started to set he could see the Geistkin suddenly emerging across the badlands.  They were pale and glowed a faint turquoise like that of a healthy sea from story book days. Vicious fuckers really but from a distance Geistkin were cute in a way.  They danced and twirled to their own music.  Certainly not the Shins.  Something older and darker.  Something elegant.  It was like the music you find playing at a vampire’s ball.  They were one thing that kept thriving in all climates and seasons and in spite if not as a result of the nearly constant wars.

 

[1] Ivan’s that is.  Char’s father was a dead naval captain.  And a good one too.  Still dead though.  A lot of people were.  Char hardly blamed him for it.  Although the naval bit had been voluntary… so there was that.

Dead again dying again

All I can think about today is dead dreams
And beautiful women
The list that one feels
As lights run across the stage
And the chill night traces outlines
Along the crowd
Lips and titts and hips
how I was going to change the world
Before I got run over
Deep in debt
Now I’m a part of it
Just another
Plastic fucking peg
Pound me with your drug hammer
Grant me rock and roll
I want to die
Before these ulcers catch up
Before gods own fingers
Claw out my guts

I sit at the window and hear the breeze blow

I sit at the window and hear the breeze blow
The trees speaks uttering next to me
Memory- memory- memory-
Everything for him was as memory
His arms were the grasping leaves
Tugged at and out season
Dying turning from leafy to gold
Dying and just getting old
I sit at the window and hear the breeze blow

And dream

And I know that I gotta get on it
Rock and rolling
Rocking and rolling
I got get it
And get one it
Get on it
Shouldn’t it
We were
As unknown
Dreaming dying
Thoughts unending
Dreaming dying
Dreaming dying thoughts unending

A man in a microphone screaming
Where is the world?
Where is the thoughts of light
The dream of darkness
The thought that would turn everything

Ah I dream I dream I dream and dream and cry and scream and dream and dream

Nick was right

It’s times like this I wish I could still talk to you
But the you I knew just blew away when the wind got strong
I heard you was married now
And I thought,
“Dodged a bullet.”
And I thought,
“Missed my chance.”

Yeah

It’s times like this
When I’m alone in vista
And my friends working the bar
Pouring me pints
Good ole Mother Earth
I think,
“I could have shared this moment with you”
I think,
“You would have liked it here.”

And afterwards we might grab a chai
And nibble on some bread
Over by the yellow deli
Maybe then we’d catch a late night film
Maybe a goofie monster flick.

But nah
It’ll never happen now
I read great gatsby
Nick was right
You can’t change the past.

The Wraith

You’ll know her when she walks in
You feel a crow clawing
Damp
Tendrils
Ice
She’s the wraith
She hides her doom behind smiles
She hides her sorrow behind smiles
She hides herself behind smiles
She’s the wraith
But once she was a little girl.