TRIPPY

Falling down man
into the hole –
the void –
while the Greek man
smiles at me –
his Mediterranean
nicotine fingers
like long lashes – strike out
feathering my nose,
his cool waters stroke my toes
sending me –
bursting bubbles into my soul
taking me to the outer planes.
Glide with me Mama
as we sing your song
soaring with the reborn phoenix
bask in the ashes –
of the roach.
We will shed our old skins
against our christening fumes;
twist, turn, do a loop-to-loop
against the grey matter
we will laugh up at the red-orange
honey-brown golden flames
as they twist around our curls
let’s pop shrooms, gulp down
the cleansing grey goose
while shimmin’ with the electrified banshees.
Dip me Mama
hit me Mama.
Slap
smack
bump,
tickle my dark side
Sing Mama, let’s scream,
stir,
swirl the streams –
why cry
drown in this cruel,
dragging world?
Let’s sway as cobras,
wiggle like worms.
Hit me mellow Mama
and let’s sing to the wind.

STALKER – A SHORT STORY

As is my nature, I lay cocooned in my bed covers. In the deepest of sleep, I ignored the indifferent outside distractions.

Carried by the sub-zero winter winds, ice pellets hit the street lights and covered all the gated houses. Black metal gates, sidewalks, and the once black and yellow streaked roads glossed over. The bare trees and their branches were swathed by inches of coarse ice.

The windows were lustrous as I slept insulated within my sheets and blankets, the winter world an oblivion to me.

I sat up instinctively. I had no reason why. I was not awakened by my sleeping dog that remained at my feet or roused by the house alarm.

He is here again, camouflaged by the night shadows; he is the dark tree without movement. He whose eyes that I have never seen. Bold in defiance, I turn to him; my body, immobile, shakes in horror. I dare not move out of bed. I must be still and pretend to sleep. Draping myself with my bed linen, I lay back and shut my eyes. Preventing any further noticeable trembles, I compress my legs together. I can feel his presence, but I cannot see him. I never see him. I only feel him.

He knows somehow that I have sealed my eyes, clinching them shut. I just want him to go away. I try and compose myself – it is no use. Covering my mouth with my right sheeted hand, I scream out, knowing that he is laughing at this. How can it be that he can see me? How could anyone see through the inches of ice that adhere against my window?

Crouching into a fetal position, I smash myself down against the mattress and shudder in panic. I tremble, pleading in whispers for his flight. The ice droplets continue pouring against the roof; I can hear the pound, bang, tapping of ice against winter clay as my heart beats- thumping excessively. I feel sweat washing down my neck length hair onto my spaghetti strapped shoulders, and the coldest of cold shivers pierces my spine. Desperate to release their unnatural hold, I feel every muscle in my body tightening. I tremble. I wait.