Knock, knock.
I ran to the door and flung it open. Marcus stood there, holding my sister by a heavy chain. I looked at her, blind in one eye, a thumb missing, and felt nothing.
“I’ve come to beg forgiveness,” she rasped.
“Don’t,” I said, my voice cold. “I know about the occult. I know you opened the Golden Door and murdered for what was behind it. Now the door won't close, and you’re looking for someone to pay the bill.”
She lunged at me, looking more like an evil spirit than my kin, but Marcus jerked the chain.
“You bargained for gold,” I continued. “But you never asked where the demon would find it. He showed you my life points in coin and you took them. You had everything, yet you wanted my life too. I won't pay your debt. I have no interest in your soul or your portal.”
Behind them, a black carriage waited in the shadows. After thirty years of running from her, the end had finally arrived. Marcus hauled on the chain, dragging her toward the horses.
“Your time is up,” he growled. The door of the carriage slammed shut.
No Rest for the Broke
A hustler from Durban did hustle and grind,
But heaven seemed hundreds of hopes far
behind.
He pleade for peace,
Got debts without cease,
And found fate had a fiendish design!
The Chicken Crossed For Wi-Fi
A clucking wee chicken went creaking
one day,
Crossed the craziest crossing for a hotspot,
they say.
But the signal so week,
Now chirps out his challenges in eggs
every day!
The Blesser and his Money
There was once a blesser in Zamdela,
Who spent his mitha on falsetto-
Today he sings for the fame,
but easily forgets his name,
now he hums in tongues incognito
The Jamaican Chef
A chef from out Jamaica,Joy,
Made jerked chicken a jammin' great toy.
Wi' hot habits he had,
He was hardly so had,
His hot hen helped him hire every hoy!
A snatcher named Javas, a silent snake's son,
Snapped phones with such speed, he
shocked everyone.
He'd steal seven a second,
A storm of a fellow, we reckoned,
Sending signals of sorry such soon he was
spooky with snatching so swiftly he'd shoot
past the sun!
radio blaring
new york city cab driver
many near misses
horrified riders
being jerked and terrified
in backseat praying
Me – Irish catlick working class:
mantillas, martyrs, Maynooth, Mass.
You – a literal Lutheran lass,
all pretzels, prenups, Mama Cass.
It never could have ever worked:
those ambiguities that lurked
were knees that, one day, would have jerked,
and we’d have wound up Douglas Sirked.
Your Nancy Clutter beats my Holden
(less Marlon Brando, more Karl Malden).
The pond we’re on was never golden –
winter white-out wiped out Walden.
I would have wearied of your sermons,
short Sheridans and shallow Shermans,
your Sophie Tuckers, Ethel Mermans,
poe-faced Pennsylvania Germans.
Ignore the stranger on the shore,
by Stan and Stella set no store.
Don’t give a damn what Della wore,
or Mary Tyler any more.
Eyes are spinning, my vertigo's bored
Sent to a doctor I can't afford
Slapped me twice in the head
Shook it like dice and said
"Boy, you've got loose gravel in your gourd"
Then jerked it sideways, brought me to tears
Smirked, poured quick dry cement down my ears
"Never tried this before"
"Pay your bill at the door"
"That should hold you for a couple years"
I often see him panhandling on the main streets.
Ranting at things only he could see.
He once surprised me at McDonald's drive-through.
Banging on my car window, barking incoherently.
I quickly jerked away from his fifty-caliber eyes.
Didn't spare him one dirty dime.
While eating my supersized meal off to the side
I silently justified that he looked too clean to be in need
and that he wore better sneakers than me.
They say angels sometimes crisscross our paths.
Fully disguised, to measure the size of our hearts.
I'd been sleeping poorly what with my agonies
needed an early morning nap but
at a ratatatat on the front door I jerked awake and
obediently open up, a respectable couple not
this time trying to get me to switch my energy supplier or
join the young communists but
'We're from The Sun'
asking me if I had any thoughts on the 'Love Island House'
Excuse me what
She mentioned a house number and I blearily
glanced across the road at
the house recently painted in blue and pink
mumbling, I really don't care about it
'Could we use your name'
but I'm not deranged enough to give them that, and
It turns out it wasn't the house opposite but further along
beyond my eyeline,
I'd seen it tarted up with lights
seems it's been called out by a disgruntled neighbour
"The house is lit up like a building from Las Vegas"
and The Sun was frothing at the thought
of a Love Island related story and bothered me
Lee Holloway Towers in his fretful slumbers
Not my problem baby and
I will never sleep again
His ears couldn't hear
His thoughts all a-shmear
His eyes didn't see
Took Ecstasy
Self-control didn’t work
His whole body jerked
He slowly lost hope
Addicted to dope
Let’s make it all legal
Injections by needle
Just DECRIMINALIZE
A solution so wise
Muscle-shirt man took his cell phone for a walk.
His mutt was just a four-legged afterthought.
Sniffing out voles and angels from the wildflower troughs...
Muscle shirt man jerked him by the neck over and over again.
I was trapped by Muscle shirt man's loud cell phone drone.
And the mutt's giant wiggly bulldog anus.
I slowed down to gain them distance.
They soon disappeared beneath April's green Avalanche.
Jill jerked into a pool, The water was certainly cool, She had no tool, She felt like a fool,
Wiped chill by wool, And she sat near the shool.
the hospital corridors were as quiet as death
until loud male-sounding footsteps slapped down the hallway
I peeked out, expecting to see a doctor
I saw no one; but the footsteps were coming
click click click click click click
they stopped right at my door
a chill went through me
I thought of Mr. Eisenhower
was he okay? should I go check?
too late for that, a ghastly voice whispered
directly into my left ear.
I knew what jumping with fright felt like now.
except I was frozen, I could not even scream.
an unknown entity followed me that night
to the nurse’s station, the water fountain,
the soda pop machine, I felt it was a ghoul
not a poltergeist, not a friendly entity
I fell asleep briefly while charting.
My head jerked up as I came back.
“Better check on Mrs. McFee,” the voice hissed.
I was terrified; paralyzed with fear.
Mr. Eisenhower was okay, but Mrs. McFee had vanished.
No one ever saw her again.
a ninety-three-year-old woman who could not walk.
Aren't We All?
Alone in a vast ocean
Attacked by waves of emotion
Searching for that sea of tranquility
Trapped in this wretched reality
If we could only find the release
And escape to peace
But chaos fills the time
Even as I write my rhyme
How can this be?
If all was only up to me
I would run with empathy
If allowed to choose rightly
We all fly headlong with no clue
When flying blind like we all do
Ragged and well worn
From our wants we get torn
It's never appealing
When all our senses go reeling
We get hard jerked from highs to low
These lessons in life we may need to grow
Yet many fight the flow
Showing all they never did know
It's the choices we make
It's make or break
Run and hide if you choose
But then you suddenly loose
To bring changes about
Don't pout
We must work in harmony with the flow
We are caught in the power of this ocean, you know
When freedom rings
There is a special joy that brings
The rule of the
Chaos Game.
This place is called
the
Repeller: there the very rule
of the Chaos Game
cannot lead with any
combination of parameters
This area is called
"The Blindspot"
The function Constituents of
Matter.
Subatomic particles
that began this visible
components of visible
matter.
Exotic Hadrons
in theory and in
experiment.
The study of Physics.
Sciences seen and unseen
with the naked eye.
A horrible trust to
a novice.
Those who refuse to understand
this science
often lends there voice
to being jerked around
and try to silence believers
in the science against
the actually existence
of physics.
Mathematical the area is called a Repeller
in science it's called
a Quantum Blindspot.
Mesons and Quarks.
A lollipop, she wanted to devour
But her painted lips were tainted and sour
Goodness sakes alive
She broke out in hives
Hidden by a mask, she chose to cower
Inside her mouth the lollipop was stuck
But her joy of sucking had run amuck
She pulled and she jerked
Nothing she did worked
What a terrible time for rotten luck
Photographs were taken and passed around
Many folks found them to be quite profound
Her weepy eyes held tears
Visible were her fears
As the lollipop sucker, she's renowned
Not exactly the best way to gain fame
I heard tell she has never been the same
Had to move out of town
Became a circus clown
She's called Candy, after changing her name
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Jovial Dr Jekyll played for juvenile Justice
a just jaspered journey
jokingly jumped a joyride
to juicy jukebox jabbering
in jackal jackboots
from nearby jungle
Dr Jekyll clasped a jackknife eating
jambalaya to justify a
juggled juxtapositional
jurisdiction jamming
as jugular vein jingled jewels
joyfully jauntily jaywalking
to a jay named Jim Jolly !
Onward he jumped to a
Jungian junction
Jupiter jocund watching his
journeying joints
journalese seemed a jibe jig
but neither Jewess, Jesuit
or jeweller jiggled this job
So he jerked his jess
like a jape for Japan
Jejuning onto January for the
next jangle of jasmine
No jellyfish was Dr Jekyll in Jordanian jerkin
though sometimes Mr Hyde
with jeroboam swirling alongside !
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