Good intentions...
She’s standing there on the bridge, wondering what life has still installed for her. She has done so many bad things, that by now there shouldn’t be anything else good left for her. And yet there he was, standing next to her, looking at the sea, like he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he wasn’t standing next to a paid assassin... But he didn’t know. Maybe he suspected that her life was more cloudy, that she leads the world to believe. That her behavior left too much to wonder. That she had too many secrets behind her eyes and the words she said. Behind smiles that weren’t always real, and reaction that didn’t always seem natural. She had great disguises, but sometimes even she slipped.
Thinking of anything in particular? – He asks. Staring at her face with a wide grin. She responds with a careful smile. She's not used to people being as kind as him. No double intentions, no secrets, no...
About lies… - she says, looking at the deep waters, as if they held the answers to her questions.
He frowns for a little while and then smiles, lifting his eyebrow.
Oh, I know you’re a liar.
She freezes for a moment. Blood suddenly stopping in her veins. She turns her head slightly, so he can just about see her profile.
How did you find out…? – She asks slowly, cautiously. All the while thinking just one single thought. The words bouncing in her and leaving her bruised. “I thought I would have longer… I thought there would be more time…”
Please, you’re not as mysterious as you think… I know that you know "squat"about fixing cars… The time that we met, that was just a lucky guess… - He says and she can feel small chunks of ice falling from her heart, finally defrosting her body and mind.
He didn’t know… She still had some time… She makes herself breathe and comes closer to him, nudging him against his shoulder. Trying to seem relaxed and playful.
Hey, I still have secrets… and I know about cars, bet I could fix one faster than you…
He laughs loudly and pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. And now she can really relax. His laugh feeling her insides with warmth. The remaining chunk of ice melting away and dripping slowly down to the ground, slipping past the wooden boards and dripping into the sea.
This wasn’t the day for the real truth. About who she was… this was a day about being truthful to her feelings… about how she felt about him. The time will come when she will have to confess about her past. But not today. No. Today she was just Jane.
A girl madly in love with a boy next door,
and not an assassin running away from her past...
..............................................
Waiting Game
She’s sitting on the sand, her eyes scanning the stormy sea, wind blowing through her tangled and wavy hair. Her legs are bend, knees close to her chest, arms spread loosely over them. She stares at the high waves clashing together with force, in some strange kind of almost surreal dance. The wind carries the breeze across her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Her mind occupied by thing much greater than the weather that surrounds her.
It’s getting colder as she sits there, on the beach, almost motionless. She’s alone there, nobody to bother her in any way and that’s the way she prefers it. Nothing to disturb her. No one to make her agitated and maybe even dangerous. She turns her face to the left, letting the wind blow straight at her. It feels good, the pure, natural force of the sea.
Of nature. She likes the intensity that comes with it, the possible consequences. The uncertainness of it all. The weather’s unpredictable and can be harmful. And so can she.
Her eyes wonder back to the sea, her feet sliding deeper into the sand. Her bare arms and legs, looking almost as white in the moonlight as her dress does. She looks down for a moment, inspecting the thin material, her outfit definitely not appropriate for the occasion. She shrugs her arms.
Not important.
She doesn’t have to look to the other side to know what’s lying there next to her. She inhales intensely, feeling the sea inside her lungs. She doesn’t have to look, but her mind sees the heavy gun in the sand anyway. Right across her neatly spread shoes.
A pair of them laying on the sand and matching its color. The boots are worn out and have seen better days. Just like her. She came here to escape, but suspects that they’ve already found her.
Someone always does. Just a matter of time.
She’s been looking around the town from the day she arrived. On alert. Trusting no one. Never forgetting who she was and what that implied. Never forget. That’s what they taught her. Imagine the most unlikely scenario, the worst option possible and be ready for it. And she was. Even now. Especially when the rumors about two strangers in the city - driving in an old black Chevrolet - started to spread. But maybe that’s who they really were, just two “out of towners” passing by, on their way to a better location. Maybe. However unlikely.
She wasn’t born yesterday not to see the signs. And in a small city like this, you couldn’t just arrive unnoticed. Especially two men, no children, no luggage. Just faces, that only shoved reproach. Yes, those kind of people stood out. Especially in a hole like this, where everybody knew everybody. She didn’t even have to see them, to know who they were and why they came here. They came for her.
However she wasn’t too worried. This wasn’t her first “witch hunt”. And she was quite certain that they didn’t know how she looked. Oh yes, she made sure of that. Able to shift her appearance as she pleased. She was gifted in that area… and maybe just one more. That was irrelevant now. Now was the time for taking care of the basic stuff. For instance, it is very important to make sure, that you leave no evidence. Nothing that they can trace you after. Just the basic.
She looks at the gun, lying on the sand, next to her boots. She smiles. That would have been a sure giveaway, no doubt. The place that she was staying in, was cleaned out of all personal belongings, leaving just the safe, day to day elements. They will come, find nothing and eventually leave. If not, she knew what to do. She was prepared for them.
Funny how they always thought they were keeping it low, “being on top of things”. Thinking that they had it covered and people would forget all about them, the moment they left the scene. Amusing indeed. The pure assurance of being professional and instead just being obvious.
Of course, there were also other types. The one’s that just didn’t care if there was any error in their skillful technique. Some were just too “above it” to actually take the time in minding the simple civilians. After all, what does it matter when you’re working for the government. If anything goes wrong, you just cover it up… or get rid of the unwanted witness. Just a shrug of shoulder and you’re good to go.
She suddenly furrows her eyebrows. Possibilities roaming around in her mind. Lazily at first, then with more speed. It’s never wise to undermine you’re opponent. Yes, that would have been foolish; even if the enemy seemed pretty much harmless. There could be others, though they usually kept it small. Forming small hunting groups. No more than two, three people at once. Playing it safe.
Just as she should.
The wind started to blow with more intensity then before and she finally noticed how cold it was. Colder then she thought. The chilly air sending goose bumps down her bare shoulders. It was time to go home. She smiled again as she slowly picked up her shoes. Lifting the gun from the sand and placing it on one of the shoes. For now. After all she was in an open space. Precautions had to be taken. There was no real danger of something happening to her. Only the fret of someone else getting hurt, when crossing her path.
Not that it was necessary. She knew how to take care of things peacefully. Calmly and in a proper manner. No victims, no fuss. Her motto. In the end she was a very peaceful creature.
A modest smile stays on her lips, as she quietly leaves the scene.
Ready for anything that will come her way.
......................................................................................................................................
I want so badly to pack my bags and leave
All I want to feel is the whiskey in my drink
I’m surrounded by animals with dreams
The whitest collar the rise of dying breeds
(...) And I got you right
where I want you anyway
Oh I got you right
where I want you anyway
“White Collar Whiskey” by Emily Wolfe
Welcome to the social abattoir
On Earth we have fat shaming
bad naming
bully gaming
and cultural flaming
People mask truths to project lies
trying whatever socially satisfies
cutting loose their free thinking ties
dipping greedy fingers in all the pies
habitually okay with less-than-advertised
observing so little despite wide open eyes
health care for profit
chocolate like love
government fallacies
and salaries gapping
slapping inclines of animal extinction
distinction with divides
pesticides in plants
and chants of revenge
carnage dressed up like justice
lucious lechery
treachery for hire
and dire poverty
On Earth we have democratic sabotage
cruelty as camouflage
killers with an entourage
and insider arbitrage
People ignore what they don't want to see
acting the part of whoever they want to be
not always minding the effects they have on we
talking through others like a logger cuts a tree
consumerly caught up in the campaign of "free"
making some selfish choices same as every me
Me eats the last bite
fight for me own truth
uncouth for stress relief
and brief to save time
grime swept into the gutter of me mind
kind for return of favor
savor rather than thank
and bank on gluttony
company line in the name of a paycheck
high-tech intellectually
perpetually precocial
social abattoir
|| another_proser ||
(This is part 1; the darker side of things.)
(Keep an eye out for part 2; the brighter side of things.)
#poetry #culture #opinion #part1 #rhyme
Where babies come from
"The psychic told my mom I'm going to have a baby," she said.
"You believe in that stuff?" her friend asked.
"I don't know...maybe. It might be what Levi and I need to get our relationship back to where it was when we were newlyweds."
"A kid changes things. It's a commitment, not a quick fix."
"I know," she pouted.
"I didn't mean to upset you. Besides you don't know anything for sure yet."
"Yeah."
A chair scraped on the tile.
"Maybe next time your mom can ask for lottery numbers or something useful," her friend added a harsh laugh for emphasis.
I watched her friend exit the food court.
I looked over my shoulder and cleared my throat.
"Excuse me Miss, I couldn't help but overhear."
She shrank back in the booth startled and embarrassed.
"I think she was a little hard on you."
"Um, thanks."
"Maybe the psychic was right? Some people have abilities like that. It's not all scams."
"Yeah...the thing is I am pregnant. I knew before my mom even went to the psychic. Heck, I knew before my body did. I just had a feeling. I can't explain it."
She gestured towards the exit.
"That woman that was with me is my best friend so I wanted her to be the first to know," she sighed.
"Oh, well let me be the first to congratulate then."
"Thanks," she said clutching her purse.
"You have options,"I said.
"Not really. I come from a religious family."
"That's not what I mean."
She raised an eyebrow.
"The psychic your mother visited is my sister. I have a watered down version of her abilities. That's what drew me to sit next to you."
She rose.
"You have the ability too. Your baby will too. It's overwhelming. So perhaps you disappear for awhile."
"What?"
"Stay with my sister until you deliver. She'll raise the baby. When you resurface your husband will see how much he's missed you and love you more than ever. Tragedy bonds like nothing else."
"You're suggesting I fake my own kidnapping?"
"It's worked before."
"I don't know," she said.
"It'll save your marriage. My sister already saw it."
Her eyes lit up. She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh that released not only carbon dioxide, but her troubles as well.
My phone rang.
"Good news Sis, I can see you're going to be a mom."
i paint these people blind
my poetry
is heartless, chews
like gravel on your teeth,
tastes like your mother,
the cornmeal on her hands
when she tied you up
in a burlap sack and tried
to drown you in the creek.
i know you want to.
ask, what's it like
to lay down and die?
how many spiders do you swallow
in your sleep? how many
have you strung out, washed
and ironed to fit your piece?
do girls like you still feel,
can i pinch your skin
until it bleeds, pretend your body
is for tourists and it's a ghost town
once i leave?
you will not take credit
for the nothing that i am now,
even though we both know
i make a killing off of the pain.
you break us, i build colossus,
then redact your name.
Thunder of Heaven
A tremble shook the stones beneath me and the cavern's walls on all sides of me. Large chunks of rock disconnected from the ceiling and came crashing to the floor. The fall echoed through the cavern and blacked out most of the light my main mode of exit. One more complication in a slew of abounding difficulties. I was trapped, hunted and slowly hope for life. Had I not made enemies none of this would be a problem. Unfortunately, as royalty bound to a warring country, there was no escaping the fact that people would abhor me, hunt me and kill me for their own desires.
Many years ago, before I obtained adulthood and a mind of my own, my mother would tell me, “Cassia, you are meant for more. The war will end. You will be free.” She was so wrong. My mother is dead. Our country is not free. I am as angry, frustrated and bitter as ever. And now, I am being pursued by the people who are threatening to overturn the nation of Yisrael. They have killed mother, two brothers and sister. Now they are coming for me. When they invaded the courtyard of the palace three hours ago, I was in the gardens with my father, heard the screams and saw my sisters’ throat being sliced in two. Father and his men gave me no choice but to escape on horseback while they went back to fight. Although Abba is a warrior, well-versed in the art of attack, he probably isn’t alive anymore. I have been thinking about that fact for what seems like an eternity.
What disturbs me most is that I think all these things with little emotion. I am numb, lost and exhausted. I am all the things a princess of the king should never be. But I am no hero, I am no savior. If anything, I need a savior. I need something to trust in. I believe in Elohim, the Lord of my people. I think there is someone out there so much bigger than me. But I doubt the care and love all the religious leaders tell me of. I’m not supposed to say that; my mother would never hear it. But I really do. How could Elohim, the Creator of goodness and light, subject His people to such darkness as murder, pain and war?
I doubt Him.
Boom. Snap. Lightening, thunder. The ground and walls shake again, this time with more power. Another chunk falls from the ceiling and almost lands on my leg. I drop and roll, the rock clips the right side of my thigh, leaving a gash. I want to scream but can't. If I am going to survive I will have to stay quiet. I will also have to move out of the caves. Unfortunately, relocating will most likely place me directly into the enemy’s line of sight. The sea was right below the cliffs. If I could make it there and run the perimeter into Galilee I would have more shelter. But could I make it?
Boom. Crack. Rumble. Dust, splinters and pieces of debris flew in all directions as a massive rock came crashing from the ten-foot ceiling and onto the stone floor. I needed to move. I edged my way to the opening where the first rock had crashed and peered out. A flock of soldiers stood at the perimeter of the water, scanning the cliffs for any sign of life. I quickly retreat back into the cave. If I walk into their line of sight I would be committing suicide. Unless... I swallowed hard and peered out again. No archers. Good. Well, better. My heart jumped as one of the enemy soldiers screamed at the top of his lungs in Greek. “Exerchomai! Come out!” My heart started to pound. I started sweating. They knew I was here. How did they know? Did they know which entrance I was in? If they wanted to, they would search until they harvested results. This army took no prisoners, ever.
Crack! Boom! Another rock clattered down from the ceiling. It wouldn’t be long before the entire structure was brought to nothing. I had seen it happen before, when my brother and I were exploring these caves. I picked up my robe, held my head high and stepped into the light. If I was going to die, at least I would die of my own volition. I would not be hunted down like an animal and killed for sport.
One of the men stabbed his finger in my direction. “There she is!” I stood frozen. I couldn’t run. There was no point in fighting. It was over. I was dead. Two of the men ran in my direction, grabbed my arms and yanked them behind my back. Their cord cut into my flesh as they zipped it tight.
“Where are you taking me?” The soldier cocked an eyebrow and looked me up and down but didn’t answer me.
“I demand to know where you are taking me!” His ringed finger slapped my face, slicing a cut into my cheek. I grit my teeth.
“I don’t care what you demand. No one does anymore. Let’s just say, it’s going to be a little surprise.” I clenched my jaw and stumbled along as they led me from my hiding place.
Boom. Crash. A peal of thunder boomed and flash of lightening ripped across the dusky sky. With a loud crash, the cave, my last piece of security, collapsed into pieces. An apt, timely metaphor of my life. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Everything that had once held me together had crumbled into jagged, cracked pieces. All I can do is catch tiny glimpses while being dragged away. I glanced at the strong arm of one of my captures. What were they going to do to me? Without a doubt, it would be worse this way than if they had killed me. And there was no way I was going to free myself. Given the lack of control I now held, was it possible that all the pieces be fused together again?
I can't help but doubt it.