God

The shamans hands circled above his head, hands undulating in the phosphorescent smoke of the burning jungles leaves, howler monkeys raucously laugh at his attempts to incorporate the divine. The village is silent, if silence is possible in the midst of a living jungle. The steam is its sweat, it never sleeps, the rivers its tears, the echoes its past, present and future.The eyes of the native children widen as the voodoo doctors hands crisscross over the flames, singeing his skin, his eyes roll back , hes blind. Tongue stretches out , contorting his face in a grimace of what? Pain, pleasure, divine ecstasy? i cannot tell. he lets out a guttural yell, a growl, and for a moment i swear there is a jaguar in the middle of the village, a fierce primordial beast, a killer of men, a myth of legend. The shaman collapses, blood pours from his nose, The elders rush to his side, as the pained face relinquishes a smile. "Auk co wae tae. Sino chuk take." Translation: The gods are angry. There is no blood.

Old Glory

"Keep alive out there." the grizzled veteran yelled to the shaking recruit.

One could hardly hear over the roaring of the engine,the bouncing of the bed and the screams of his country men. The blast echoed all around, mortars, gunfire, echoed all around, ripping through flesh vibrating deep inside against his pounding heart. The veteran had played the game before, he knew the rules or lack thereof. Point and shoot, run and fall, fight and try not to die. The same game his father had played, his fathers fathers, and his fathers, fathers, fathers.
The recruit shook, from his head down to his feet, shook like a child falling into a winter brook. The brook back at home, shook like that time his brothers and him went to the brook in winter, to run, to play, to venture into the unknown frozen land. He had fallen in, after proceeded farther on a frozen bank that was just not frozen enough. He had fallen in, its freezing waters engulfing him, in a panic he tried to call out, but the call was a silent one under the ice. Only bubbles of air escape the icy current. Thank god his brothers had been there or he would have frozen to death under that river, dying ten miles away from home instead of thousands of miles away today.
The veteran eyed the recruit, with paternal eyes that seemed to affect men once they'd seen to many young faces in the dirt. "God how old is this kid, whats he doing here?" A mortar shell erupts, splaying earth across his faces, the sound of mud thudding against his helmet a wanton reminder of the severity of the situation. An inkling of panic rises up, the personal dialogue had kept him off guard. The off setting push into this ghastly reality has caused a moment of discombobulation. But the animal keeps him calm, the man has fear, but the animal survives. The explosions go off all around them, a fireworks display on a deadly level.

Silent Walls

Looking on from the flies vantage point it was plain to see who the murderer was.

Too bad it would be dead before the victim.

The sleuth walked into a crowded room, with flashbulbs going off, a silent echo to capture the nonexistence that took place. " What we got chief?' he asks with one hand on his corn cob pipe, the other in his worn overcoat. " Murder. The fifth one this week." The chief replied with nonexistent lips due to an overwhelmingly bushy walrus sleeping beneath his nose. " This ones younger than the rest."  Shucks, the detective said to himself, the smell of Cavendish twirling about in the air, arcing, circling, ceasing to be. "Scenes been ruined by the press, got here first. Might as well charge them for it and call a day." Its never that easy, the no name detective quipped to no one in the room, it never is. The body was in a chair , turned to a window in the corner of the room. The victims face was serene, almost peaceful, at least that's what the Mr. No Name hoped. Things are never that simple though. "What's the time of death?" Mr.No asks without any particular care, in that moment he's far from there.

Keep Steadfast

Which way do you go when a wall blocks your path,
When wild brush grows with thorns that seem to laugh,
The misfortune is yours and yours alone,
With out the direction of the unknown,
You climb over that blocking wall,
Scramble over that brush and dont fall,
The quickest route is a straight line,
Have no worries your determination will keep you fine.

Mourning had Come, The Life has Gone

Mourning had come to the land.

The wilson's son had kicked the bucket and would soon be brought back to the earth. It had been an accident but there were whispered rumors of foul play. The tears streamed from the eyes of the young wilsons mother, no cotton cloth could hold back her sorrow. Sorrow that echoed across the plains, past the mountains into the wild land beyond.
Solemn, stoic stood the no more wilsons father,standing side by side with the younger son, the living brother.

"Brother, brother",whispers left the lips of the living wilson, falling on deaf ears that could never again answer the oath of blood.

The morning sun rose, shining the light of days so many passed on the wilsons homestead, but this light brought on the day of a new beginning and a sad end. The casket housing young wilsons remains bounced and slid alng the wood carriage of the morticians cart.  Wilsons mother, creeks combining and forging themselves into rivers rolled down her cheeks, the cloth comes up to her mouth to stifle a scream.

"Help your mother boy." the stoic father orders, not able to move from his roots for fear of collapsing to the ground, leaving the young wilson stading alone.

Morning has come to the Wilson homestead.

Why does the caged bird sign?

Ask the question,
Await the answer,
I was born of the chaos, of warring personalties,
battling for control, waging war for preicous liimited resources,

War is my creed, battle is my forging,
I am steel,
Blood shed is my crucible, fear my anvil,
pounded by the pressure of uncertainity,

I was rasied in the zoo, the cages enclosed the man, the shaking let the dog bite,
Daily visitors, prodding, tapping at the glass, ignoring the postings, what a travesty.
No one can read the signs, no ones cares to understand that enternity and purity, have no places in the cage.

Never ending hunt

Give me blood,
Give me guts and glory, 
It starts and ends on this line.

The wolves gather in their packs,
Lions shield themselves with their pride,

Listen to the howl in the night, the air reverberates the call,
Silent, stalking, the hunters move,
Paws pounding, tongues lolling , the heat of the hunt escapes into the mist of the night,
exhalation of life and fire,
There is no fear here ....
Only purpose.