All poems found containing the word olive
13 "No tears shall fill this olive grove"

Hopelessly dependent on your heads and hands
were the pieces of me strewn on your platters
spinning wildly, correcting, dissecting my faces
praying for movement of the allegro, sans.

{An insidious little fox with her naughty tail
came to wrap around my being and close
never you mind what transpired next,
a shattering soul was no longer frail.}


But back and forth the fugue swings
never fulfilling the adagio's haste
the remnants of me are long since lost
scrambling for nothing, my madness sings.

Now I am left with no memory or past
now there's naught to look forward to
now I can die a regretful death
now the scherzo, can take flight, at last.

No tears shall fill this olive grove
the sorrows of a few grace its arches
the final movement is now at hand
slump, lively, into the irony of the allegro.

i've lost my HDD. years of my life just erased in an instant. all my poetry, books, music, photos, movies, softwares, everything gone.
David Walker "You are fucking with me. Was...Corky at Olive Garden?"

Origins
written and directed
by
David Walker

Inspired
by
the films of
Quentin Tarantino
David Lynch
&
Rob Zombie

There is method
To his madness

                                                             ­                                                                 ­             January 2013              
                                                             ­                                                                 ­        first draft









1. EXT. Run down project apartment complex - 3:00 am

A dark, tall figure with long black hair and a trenchcoat opens the already cracked red door.

MAN:
I'm looking for love in all the wrong places.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:
INT. Apartment 3

A typical roach infested apartment with a kitchen built into the living room. 3 GIRLS are on the kitchen floor. GIRL # 1 one has black hair with big lips and a curvy frame and she is wearing a pair of Tripp pants and a black bra barely covering her ample bosom. She has a flesh colored rubber hose tied to her left arm. GIRL # 2 has dyed rainbow colored hair, a nice smile, and a skinny frame. She is wearing a pair of tore blue jeans with smiley faces and cute in jokes written on them, also not wearing a shirt with a lacy blue bra on. She has a spoon with water and black tar heroin inside it which she is heating up with a silver Zippo with the word "Skittles" engraved into it. GIRL # 3 Has long naturally red hair, glasses and an extremely voluptuous figure. She is wearing tight black pants and a black shirt with thin sleeves. She is inspecting a covered syringe with an unsure look in her eyes.

GIRL # 2:
So, do you wanna do it or not Jane?

Snatches the syringe out of JANE's hand.

JANE:
I'm not sure. How long have you been doing this shit?

Girl #2 takes the orange cap off the syringe revealing a small needle.

GIRL #2:
Since after I graduated. About 3 years. Liz you ready?

LIZ:
As ready as I am for dat sweet tang!

Girl #2 giggles. She sticks the needle into Liz's arm, blood mixes with the brown fluid inside, and she pushes the plunger down. Liz leans back into Girl #2's arms and Girl #2 gives her a kiss.

LIZ:
I love you, Julia.

JULIA:
Well, I love you too.

JANE:
You guys are so gay!

(OS):
Save that shit for the fucking customers!

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                               CUT TO:
Other side of room. A greasy looking MAN with short faded black hair and a scar going from the corner of his mouth to the right ear is sitting in a beat up recliner cleaning his Uberti 1873 Cattleman revolver while smoking a fat blunt and watching some kind of high budget porn with Sasha Grey in it.

JULIA:
Sorry, Mike. It didn't stop you from leaving me and Liz unsatisfied and bored, did it?

LIZ and JULIA laugh. JANE has a nervous look in her eyes.

MIKE:
Very fucking funny you wore out trick! Am I gonna have to smack the sass out yo mouth?

MIKE gets up, puts out his blunt and walks over to the GIRLS gun in hand.

MIKE:
Or am I gonna have to give your little friend a scar like mine.

LIZ:
Mike don't!

MIKE SLAPS JULIA with the side of his UNLOADED revolver and grabs JANE by her hair.

MIKE:
Who the fuck are you, anyways bitch?

JANE:
(stuttering)
I was walking down the street earlier today and I ran into Julia and Liz. They went to school with my sister I think. Let me go!

MIKE:
So you're a young'n. Well you have some nice big titties!

MIKE RIPS off her shirt exposing her breasts. He begins to squeeze the right one. JANE SLAPS MIKE HARD!

MIKE:
Bitch!

MIKE lets go of her hair. Jane runs to the other room grabbing her shirt. LIZ stumbles towards him and PUNCHES him in the nose.

MIKE:
That's it! You little cum dumpsters are dead!

MIKE picks up the REVOLVER, runs to the chair where the bullets are and tries to reload. JULIA wakes from her daze. We see him load 3 rounds. All of a sudden the DOOR gets broken down and the dark clad FIGURE from the scene before pulls out a BERETTA M9 with a silencer attachment. MIKE FIRES 2 shots at him haphazardly missing both. The MAN LAUGHS and FIRES one shot that MIKE's crotch catches.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                 CUT TO:
2. INT. Next door in Apartment 2.

A MAN and WOMAN in their early 40's are smoking a joint and seem disturbed by the gunfire.

MAN:
(coughing)
What the hell was that?

WOMAN:
Sounded like gunshots. Do you think we should call the cops?

MAN:
Fuck no! There is a pound of chronic in the bedroom closet! Just pray whoever it is doesn't come over here!

WOMAN:
Okay. Are you gonna pass that?

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:
3. INT. Apartment 3.

The smoke has cleared. MIKE is begging for death and BLEEDING out everywhere, JULIA is in a daze, dumbfounded by what she just witnessed, LIZ is cowering in fear, crying, and JANE just came out of the bedroom with her TORN SHIRT on and a terrified "Oh my God" expression. The unknown assailant has a devilish grin upon his face.

MIKE:
Godfuck! Kill me you sunuvabitch! Godda--

The MAN obliges. He fires a single shot into his RIGHT EYE.

MAN:
Well, looks like I got here in the nick of time!

JULIA:
(blankly)
W-Who the fuck are you?

MAN:
That is of little importance right now. Who are you foxy ladies?

JULIA:
M-My name's Julia. That girl over there (points to Liz) is Liz, and the ginger is Jane.

MAN:
What pretty names! Well, I have a question. Will you three lovely young ladies gather round that despicable looking chair and listen to what I have to say, or are you going to run? Keep in mind I have rope in my trenchcoat and the fact I mean you no harm. I am just a lonely man with a story to tell, and the way I see it, what with that bruise on your sweet face, you kinda owe me.

JULIA:
I think we can stay. I just wanna know your name.

MAN:
Ahh, but I am a man of many names. My christian name is Derek. You don't need the last for now.

DEREK walks to the chair and sits down. He waves the GIRLS over.

DEREK:
C'mon I just want to tell my tale. Look, I will put the gun under the chair as a sign of good faith that neither you girls or I will start shooting the place up again. Are we square ladies?

JULIA:
What do ya say guys?

They gather in the kitchen.

LIZ:
This guy has a screw loose.

JULIA:
Yes, but he saved us from our pimp. We should humor him.

JANE:
I think he is hot!

LIZ and JULIA just stare at JANE.

JANE:
Sorry, but he is.

JULIA:
So it's agreed. We will listen to his story, silently pray he doesn't rape us and leave afterwards.

The GIRLS walk to the chair. DEREK has lit the blunt.

DEREK:
Ahh, so you have decided to join me. Good. Do you guys wanna hit this?

LIZ and JULIA shake their heads no.

JANE:
I will.

DEREK:
Great. Now, where do I begin. I suppose everybody's roots stem from childhood, so lets go back, oh say, 20 years ago.

                                                             ­     FADE TO BLACK        
Against black, TITLE CARD

October 15th 1995.

                                                             ­                    CUT TO      
4. EXT. Suburbia circa 1995.

There are three boys between the ages of 6 and 9 playing in front of a grey HOUSE with a white MINIVAN in the driveway. Little DEREK is a scrawny 6 year old boy with short brown hair and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure in his hands. The 2 other BOYS ages 7 and 9 are picking on him and trying to take away DONATELLO.

DEREK:
Leave me alone or I will whoop your butt.

BOY #1:
Whatever! You are scrawny and lame. Give us your Ninja Turtle now or we will beat you up!

BOY #2 picks up a STICK and starts hitting DEREK with it.

BOY #2:
What are you going to do? Get your daddy? Oh, wait...that's right, you don't have one!

The 2 BULLIES start laughing. A look of hatred fills young DEREK's eyes. He catches the STICK and slaps BOY #2 in the face with it. He then tackles him and starts beating him mercilessly. BOY #1 runs towards the PORCH and knocks on the DOOR. DEREK'S MOM answers. She is in her mid 30's with brown hair and casual clothing on, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of "coffee."

BOY #2:
Derek's beating up Josh again!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, good for him! Bet that little pecker snot deserved it too. Now, Brad...why don't you take you and your friend on home before I tell your dad you play with Barbies.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
My mother was a sweet ol' broad!

BRAD:
(sighs)
Okay, Ms. Walters, but you do know you are going to have to pull him offa Josh right?

DEREK'S MOM:
(sighs like Brad)
I suppose.

DEREK'S MOM and BRAD walk to the front yard and GASP when they notice that DEREK has knocked out 2 of JOSH'S baby teeth, both in the front and broke his nose, which is bleeding profusely.

DEREK'S MOM:
Derek Charles Walters! Get the fuck up offa him!

DEREK:
(crying)
He hit me with a stick!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, now I'm about to!

She picks up the STICK and beats his ass with it several times.

DEREK:
Fuck you bitch!

DEREK'S MOM, infuriated throws the stick down and SLAPS him across the face. DEREK runs away.
He runs to a wooded area in the back yard as far as his legs can take him.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
Do not weep, for on that day, I met God and Satan incarnate and it turns out they existed singularly in my head.
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                        CUT TO:

5. JANE:
Like a conscience?

DEREK:
Much more. These guys are in the room right now and only I can see him. Satan led me to you guys tonight! Who knows what kind of CRAZY hijinks are in store!

JULIA:
That's it I'm outta here! C'mon gu--

DEREK fires of his M9 1 time.

DEREK:
Now, listen to me you dykey, junkie whore. I have 3 more rounds in this motherfucker and one
of them is reserved for you if you don't sit your tight ass back down.

JULIA sits back down scared to death. DEREK regains his composure and is "all smiles" again.

DEREK:
Phew! I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want someone pretty to listen to my fucking story. Fuck, if you want, I will ask you guys about yourself later on, but for now I'm going to introduce you to my best friends.

JANE:
Who are they again?

DEREK:
Ah, you were trying to pay attention. I will remember that. They go by many names. One can be called "God", "Heroic Harry", "The White Knight", whatever you envision as good, this mofo is it. He is the reason you guys are still alive.

LIZ:
And the other?

DEREK:
Ahh, him. He can go by "Satan", "The Rapist", "The Angel of Death." He's the reason ol' crusty here no longer bothers you.

LIZ:
So you're basically ape shit, right?

DEREK:
Pretty much! Now where was I? Ah...yes

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                              CUT TO:

6. INT. Small wooded area behind the house --- Early evening.

DEREK has made himself a nice little HANGOUT in the woods! there is a trunk with tons of comics in it, an arsenal of sharpened sticks and rocks, Batman action figures, and a Game Boy Color. He is drawing a picture at the moment.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
There I was in my element. Pissed at my mother, then all of a sudden, a deep, angelic voice rang out.

VOICE #1:
(OS...of course)
You don't have to hate her, you know. She loves you.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then another, this voice sounding more playful and mischievous then the other.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, for how long? Do you think she meant to have you?

DEREK:
Where are you guys?

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then they appeared.

A 13 YEAR OLD BOY with BROWN hair and a FLANNEL overshirt over a Nirvana T-SHIRT with baggy torn blue JEANS with stains on them appears.

BOY #1:
Don't hate your mom.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, watch her close.

DEREK turns his head. We see another BOY roughly the same age with slightly long BLACK hair and a TRENCHCOAT over a Nine Inch Nails T-SHIRT with tight black CHICK PANTS with a CHAIN leading from his pocket to his BELT. He has a lip piercing and he is smoking a cigarette.

DEREK:
Who are you guys?

BOY #1:
Just think of us as older brothers your mom can't see.

DEREK:
Wow! I should introduce you guys to my friends!

BOY #2:
No!

DEREK:
Why not?

BOY #2:
You are the only person that can see us. Don't go telling anyone and don't talk to us in front of anyone. People will think you are nuts!

BOY #1:
Think of us as two ghosts that give you advice. Don't listen to him though, he'll get you in trouble.

BOY #2:
Shut up! Or I will kick your ass again.

BOY #1:
Not in front of him. He doesn't need to see that shit. Not now

DEREK:
What are your names?

BOY #1:
That's up to you.

DEREK:
I'll call you Joe, and him Jerry.

JOE:
Works for me, for now. Call us whatever you feel like calling us whenever you like. If you wanna call me butthole and him poophead, go right ahead.

DEREK:
Okay, but for now you guys are Joe and Jerry.

JOE:
We are going to leave now. We will show up when we think the time is right. Sometimes you will see us others you won't, but we are always with you.

JERRY:
Even when you poop.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                  CUT TO:
7. INT. Apartment 3.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
And then I went back home and they disappeared. I reconciled with my mom and for the next few weeks I didn't see them. Brad started hanging out with me again and school was good. The years go by and still no sight of them. 4 years pass by. It's 1999 and my tastes changed. Instead of Ninja Turtles and Batman it was KISS and Freddy Krueger. By this point me and Josh had made up and Brad was in middle school. And so we go to where me and the voices meet again.

8. INT. Taft Elementary
A class of roughly 25 children in your average 5th grade home room with a stout middle aged gentleman teaching. JOSH and DEREK are in the back row sitting side by side.

TEACHER:
...And that's how the metric system works.

JOSH:
(to Derek)
Dude, did you check out RAW last night? The Undertaker crucified Stone Cold!

DEREK:
Fuck I missed it. I was doing homework.

JOSH:
(loud)
Shit!!

TEACHER:
What did you say Mr. Jarvis?

JOSH:
Sorry Mr. Cannib. I forgot to do my homework.

MR. CANNIB:
Josh, Derek, outside!

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
The old man had taken kids out of the classroom before and they always came back with tears in their eyes. As we walked outside I heard a familiar voice.

JERRY:
(OS)
If he touches either of you, kick him in the nuts!

MR. CANNIB:
I told you boys too many times! None of this shit in my classroom! Josh get over here you little prick!

OL' TEACH GRABS JOSH by the NECK.

DEREK:
Hey motherfucker keep your hands to yourself!

CANNIB begins to throttle JOSH. DEREK pushes him off of JOSH and KICKS the TEACHER in the nuts with FURY about 3 times and jumps on top of him while JOSH watches holding his neck.

JERRY:
(OS) While we see Derek's mouth moving

Look here, mother fucker. You think you can be called a teacher for drinking on a farm, fucking cattle and beating children so you can have Summer vacation every year? Fuck you, you spiteful sad man.

DEREK SPITS in the BASTARD'S face and begins to PUNCH him when JOSH pulls him off.

JOSH:
Dude, the door outta here is right there. Lets go to our lockers, get our shit and get outta here.

DEREK:
(Breathing heavily)
Did I just do that? What the fuck? Let's get out of here...now!

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:
9. EXT. Taft Elementary
A bunch of playground equipment next to an alley with a fenced in field. JOSH and DEREK are walking down the alley. It is sunny outside but about to rain.

DEREK:
That wasn't me that did that.

JOSH:
If it wasn't you who was it?

DEREK:
It w...

JOSH:
(Interrupting)
It really doesn't matter who it was. You got us out of school forever man.

DEREK:
You think so?

JOSH:
We are getting paid, yo.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                   CUT TO
10. INT. Chillipaqua City Courthouse
The JUDGE bangs his gavel. JOSH and DEREK are seen smiling and pointing at CANNIB while he is on the stand while LATE 20'S DEREK narrates.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And so we did. That incident pulled the liberal media's heartstrings. My mother may have been a bitch, but she was a crafty bitch. We settled in court on a 100,000 dollar payment to both mine and Josh's families.And the fucker of this whole situation was fired and arrested the next week for bestiality and had quite the collection of kiddie porn in his closet!

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:
11.EXT. A small farm on the edge of town.

MR. CANNIB is pantsless with a goat. We see the cherries and berries come blazing by. Cut to him crying as he is being handcuffed.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:
12.INT. Apt 3.

DEREK:
So you guys aren't goat fuckers are you? After all you seem pretty wild.

JULIA:
No.

JANE:
Hell no.

LIZ:
One time I was wearing a skirt and it was a very hot day, and my dog Rufflestiltskin licked my snatch.

JANE, JULIA AND DEREK look on in disgust.

LIZ:
What? I told him to stop.

DEREK:
That's just nasty. Another question and then on to the story again. How old are you girls? This Jane girl looks awfully young.

LIZ:
Me and Julia are 21. I think Jane is 18.

DEREK:
Ahh. Well that's good. The feeling I'm having in my pants looking at you 3 is "okay" then I guess.

JANE:
You make me moist.

LIZ and JULIA look on in TERROR. JANE puts her hand on DEREK'S crotch. DEREK slaps it away.

DEREK:
Hey now! Not right yet you little fucking minx. I have a story to continue.

JANE:
(Disappointed)
Fine.

DEREK:
And so the years pass and our young hero, (ha, me) had grown older and the voices just wouldn't stop after his little incident with his pal the goat fucker. As he grew the voices grew with him. Derek started to become depressed and jaded with the world. He had gotten taller, a bit chubbier, and more handsome. And he had fallen in love. Problem is she was John's girlfriend...and so we find young bespectacled Derek: awkward teenager.

13. INT. Derek's room.
The room is a bit messy. There is an XBOX underneath a small SONY TV. A Micheal Myers poster hangs above his bed. There are blue curtains covering his window. His closet is open and there is a projector and several 35 mm films in there. There is a boom box with a Weezer CD case lying next to it. The Blue album. Derek is on his PC while Only in Dreams is playing in the background. On his computer there are pictures of vile death and pornography. And all of a sudden there is a knock on his door.

DEREK'S MOM:
Boy, you better not be a whacking it!

DEREK:
Goddammit, mom! I will whack it if I feel like it!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well you better put that thing away if you are because there is a girl here to see you! Some girl named Cherise...isn't that Josh's girlfriend?

DEREK:
Oh, fuck! Um...send her in!

CHERISE walks in. She is around 2 years younger than DEREK, very tall as far as girls go, with long blonde hair, skinny yet she has a donk on her. She wears glasses and has braces. Kinda nerdy looking. DEREK has a nervous expression on his face.

CHERISE:
Hi Derek!

DEREK:
Um, hi. What are you doing here.

CHERISE:
Well, 2 reasons. First one is, could I borrow your Bleach CD? That's the only Nirvana album I haven't heard. If I were 20 years older I would have married Kurt instead of that Courtney Love bitch!

DEREK:
I totally understand. Um, yeah it's in my closet underneath my reel of Eraserhead. Let me get it for you.

DEREK walks to his closet and starts rummaging through his shit.

CHERISE:
Second reason is...well, um I'm trying to break up with Josh...

DEREK drops his projector on his foot.

DEREK:
Ow, fuck!

CHERISE:
and I don't know how to go about it. Do you have any ideas?

DEREK seems flustered.

DEREK:
Why...I mean you guys make a great couple.

CHERISE:
But, he is always angry at me if I don't see things his way.

DEREK:
I don't know why he would ever get mad at you. You are so great.

CHERISE:
Well, I did cheat on him with Eric.

DEREK:
That fat fuck?!

DEREK looks disgusted.

CHERISE:
It's like he knows how to respect a woman. Like you...but I could never be with you. You are...too...good.

DEREK:
Good? Like how?

CHERISE:
Like...I don't want to be the one to...ya know...take IT. You need a sweet girl to do that.

DEREK:
But, you are the sweetest girl I know!

Tears well up in DEREK'S eyes. JERRY appears.

Jerry:
Tell her to leave.

DEREK:
I think you should leave.

CHERISE:
I'm sorr--

DEREK:
Leave!

CHERISE looks pissed.

CHERISE:
Fine then you fat loser!

CHERISE leaves. DEREK runs out the door.

DEREK:
Keep fucking drug addicts and losers, ya fucking cunt! Who was the last one? The creepy 30 year old? Keep spreading your legs and you will end up with a little fucker and a man in prison! You're 14 act like it!

DEREK sits down at the desk with anger in his eyes. He reaches in one of the drawers. We see in the drawer there is lotion, paper towels and loosely rolled joints. He pulls out the lotion. DEREK gets on www.stileproject.com and clicks on the most recent link, the Pamela Anderson sex tape which despite being made public nearly a decade ago has finally been linked to Stile Project. DEREK pulls down his pants and starts jerking his wang.

DEREK:
You fucking cunt! You will be mine one day!

We cut to behind DEREK and JERRY is controlling DEREK'S arm.

JERRY:
You see what Tommy Lee is doing with his dick? You will be doing that to Cherise soon enough. Wait...you will convince her. She wants that dick. She just doesn't know it yet.

DEREK cums and takes his shirt and wraps it over his dick to wipe up. What he doesn't get with his shirt he LICKS off of his hand. JERRY looks upon the sad sight that is DEREK licking up his semen.

JERRY:
We will bring her to you. Me and Joe.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:
  14. Maple Orchard.

DEREK walks down the street to JOSH'S house. JOSH'S house is basically a carbon copy of DEREK'S. There is a green LINCOLN parked in the driveway. DEREK knocks on the window.

JOSH:
Dude, what the fuck? Why the fuck are you waking me up?

DEREK:
It's 4:00 pm, mothafucka! Wake your fat, white ass up and smoke a blunt! I got money lets run out of town to the White Castle!

JOSH:
Fuck, man...give me a few to wake up. My mom will let you in. My Jew dad is at work right now so you're cool.

DEREK walks in.

JOSH'S mom opens the door.

JOSH'S MOM:
Ahh, Derek. Your little middle school friends not aloud to hang out?

DEREK:
Just let me in Melanie.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                 CUT TO:
15. INT. Josh's house.

DEREK sits down in the house which has an enormous living room and a really big T.V. in it in front of a neatly kept couch.

DEREK:
Hurry the fuck up in there Josh! It doesn't take that long to shit and get changed. I'm starving! Mom hasn't had food in the fridge for a week!

MELANIE:
Why can't your mom afford food for you? You guys have thousands of dollars! How come you can't have food?

DEREK:
Melanie, dear...mother of my best of friends. My mom is a dirty cunt!

MELANIE:
I knew there was a reason I didn't like her.

JOSH comes out of the bathroom.

JOSH:
Fuck, lets go man. I have the new Outkast CD in the stereo. Andre 3000 is a fucking madman!

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:

16. INT. Josh's Lincoln.

Leather seats, faux wood paneling, a Pioneer CD player, and a little rubber fetus hanging from the rear view mirror. The car cigarette lighter is being used to light a blunt and "Roses" is playing in the background.

JOSH:
Did you watch Chappelle's Show last night?

DEREK:
No man, I'm glued to my computer. Maybe one day when I can watch Comedy Central on my computer I will watch it.

JOSH:
(In a high pitched voice)
A re re visited my work today!

DEREK:
(Laughing maniacally while coughing.)
Oh, really?

JOSH:
(In normal voice)
And not just ANY retard...the king retard!

DEREK:
(gasps)
You are fucking with me. Was...Corky at Olive Garden?

JOSH:
(In high pitched voice again)
Yes!

DEREK:
You are fucking with me.

JOSH:
Seriously dude.

DEREK drops the blunt.

DEREK:
Oh shit!

JOSH slaps DEREK in the back of his head until he picks it up.

JOSH:
Pick it up, brown eye!

DEREK:
Now fuck off, with that shit! I got it.

JOSH:
Give it to me, then.

JOE:
(OS)
Let it slide. Enjoy the marijuana and keep your eyes on the road.

DEREK hits the blunt super hard until he starts coughing up spit on himself. JOSH yanks it out of his hand.

JOSH:
You also need to quit making this thing run with your strong ass lungs.

DEREK:
(Coughing still)
What about Corky?

JOSH:
(Laughs hysterically)
Oh, so you want to hear about mirth and merriment Corky gave me? Well allow me to elaborate.

JOSH hits the blunt 3 times and passes it.

JOSH:
(Exhales followed by a tiny cough.)
Well ol' Corky was sitting at a table that I had to serve. My buddy Jeff was serving a table behind him filled with Hasidic Jews. Like you know how there is Eugene Levy and just slightly higher than that there is my Jewy dad? Well these guys were probably 10 times higher on the Jewometer. Like rabbi's or something. Real Jews, my nig. Well I come up to the table where our favorite retard, Corky is sitting and Corky says to his "handlers" (in full blown tard voice) "Gee, those guys have curly hair...and cool frisbee's on their heads"

DEREK fucking loses it!

JOSH:
You gonna pass that?

DEREK passes the blunt laughing like the deranged bastard he is.

JOSH:
Well, the poor tard said it really loud. So his "handlers" do their best job of telling him a brief history of Judaism while I am taking the orders. As I walk away I hear them mutter something about Haunakah. I go and place the order, by the time I get back with their food, they have finally gotten to the holocaust. Now, I think all he heard, like myself was the beginning and end of the whole conversation. So Corky sees me coming back with his fettucine alfredo gets really happy and breaks into song. Do you want to hear it.

DEREK:
More than I want those jalapeno sliders.

JOSH:
(In the best tard voice ever)

HAUNAKAH HOLOCAUST 8 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS THAT'S RELLY COOL DER'S THE JEW GUYS WIT DER JEW CURLS BUT WATCH OUT FOR DA HITLER HES A BAD BAD MAN HES GONNA GETCHYA WITH HIS EVIL SWASTIKA! HAUNAKAH HOLOCAUST
And he just kept on repeating it over and over. The Jews got pissed and didn't tip Jeff. I distinctly heard one of them saying something about a wood shed and someone beating him way too hard.

DEREK is laughing himself to tears and out of breath.

DEREK:
This couldn't have happened.

JOSH:
That's because it didn't! Ha ha ha!

JOSH pulls up to WHITE CASTLE.

JOSH:
So do we agree on a sack o six each?

DEREK:
Yeah, and a Hawaiian Punch...biggest cup they have.

JOSH:
Yeah that sounds good.

JOSH pulls up to the speaker.

JOSH:
2 jalapeno sacks o 6 and 2 extremely large Hawaiian Punch's.

SPEAKER:
(female voice)
Anything else?

DEREK:
Your number!

JOSH punches DEREK in the arm.

DEREK:
Fuckin' cocksmith!

SPEAKER:
Excuse me?

JOSH:
Don't mind him. He's a virgin.

DEREK has rage in his eyes. He PUNCHES JOSH in his nads.

JOSH:
Wait until we get out of the car, motherfucker.

JOSH pulls up to the window. They see a raven haired goddess with black horn rimmed glasses taking orders.

BANGIN' WHITE CASTLE EMPLOYEE:
That will be 10.99.

DEREK is stunned.

DEREK:
(whispering)
Oh, no...you are fucked when we get out of this car.

They get their sacks o 6 and start eating them on the way home.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:

17. INT. Josh's Lincoln/Ext. Josh's driveway.

JOSH:
Lets get out of the car.

DEREK:
One minute...

DEREK pulls out a peach WHITE OWL and half a sack that roughly took 20 dollars and persuasion to obtain.

DEREK:
We need to talk.

JOSH eases his way back into the car.

JOSH:
About what?

DEREK:
Cherise.

JOSH:
Goddammit, what now Derek? Is it still the ol' I saw her first routine? Or do you still think she's in love with you?

DEREK looks hurt, but shrugs it off.

DEREK:
No...sit down and roll this blunt.

DEREK hands JOSH the weed and SHELL.

DEREK:
Now, Josh. Listen to me...Cherise is a fickle bitch. She is also a slut...A 13 year old slut. You are going to be a senior next year...I am going to let you roll the blunt and light it before I tell you. So in the meantime...

DEREK reaches for a CD in the visor sleeve. He pulls out WEEZER'S "Green Album" and plays "Hash Pipe."

DEREK:
(to the tune of the song)
Get that blunt rolled, get that blunt rolled, get that blunt rolled. I can understand why you look so pissed. You know somethings wrong, that somethings amiss. I know that you don't care, but I want you to know, that your girl Cherise is kind of a ho! Oh...come on and roll that...oh...come on and roll that. Oh...this bitch is a problem, she rubs it at night. Oh...you roll that blunt so...we need no hash pipe. DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN

JOSH:
Shut the fuck up, here!

JOSH lights it and passes it to DEREK. DEREK hits it.

DEREK:
So, ol braceface was talking to me. She told me she was thinking about dumping you...something about he doesn't treat me right...he gets angry when things don't go his way.

JOSH looks angry.

JOSH:
And I'm supposed to believe you?

DEREK:
You're a big boy, you can decide for yourself. She's gonna leave you man.

JOSH PUNCHES DEREK in the FACE!

JOSH:
I don't fucking believe you, you son of a bitch!

JERRY:
(OS)
NOW!

DEREK gets out of the car.

DEREK:
C'mon old friend, don't let some stank ass pussy get between us. Now why don't you come on out of the car and give me a hug?

JOSH LEAPS out of the car. He tackles the shit out of DEREK.

DEREK:
Now that's more like it!

DEREK knees JOSH in the BALLS HARD!

JOSH:
(winded)
I will kill you!

DEREK:
Maybe you should give her a call. I'm going home.

DEREK turns around and starts walking. JOSH RUNS at him and hits him in the back of the head.

DEREK:
Now, goddammit man that hurt! Chill the fuck out, man. Bros 'fore hoes!

DEREK has a devious smile on his face.

DEREK:
You should think really fucking hard about what you said about killing me today. I have a screw loose motherfucker! Now, if you want to fight, there are better places. We need to go somewhere else with this. An unbiased environment. I tell you what, we can have a fight at the ballpark in Yolentangee park tomorrow if you are still butthurt.

JOSH calms a bit.

JOSH:
Then it's settled. We will fight tomorrow in the ballpark.

DEREK:
Fine then. I am going home now. Maybe you can chill te fuck out tomorrow so you won't be so easy to whoop.

DEREK turns around and goes home. JOSH is yelling obscenities while crying at the same time.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:

18. INT Derek's room.

DEREK is at the computer having freshly gotten his nut watching BANGBROS for 2 hours. We see him pulling up his pants. He looks in the drawer at his desk and pulls out a knife. 2 figures appear. One is dressed head to toe in black with a lip piercing and long black hair. The other has shaggy brown hair and a beard with khakis on and a tie dye t shirt. We recognize them as JOE and JERRY.

JOE:
Put it away.

JERRY:
You need that knife. Do you think he won't put up a fight?

JOE:
Put it away!!

DEREK slices his wrist. Blood comes shimmering down his fore arm. He runs into his mothers bedroom and blacks out. This is all shown from DEREK'S P.O.V.

19. Hospital room.
As his eyes open he is in a hospital bed. There are nurses asking him questions he doesn't understand. He sees the needle in his arm and rips it out. He lunges at one of the nurses.

DEREK:
(Screaming)
Wanna taste!!!???? I wanna taste of you! Lemme see dat ass!

OLDER DEREK:
(OS)
I had decided to ignore these thoughts, but the thought of having these thoughts didn't have me thinking clearly!

20. INT. Apt. 3
JULIA and LIZ are frightened. JANE has her cell phone out. DEREK leans over JANE.

DEREK:
What are you doing?

JANE:
Why, telling everyone on facebook how ----

DEREK grabs her cell phone and THROWS it through the WINDOW.

DEREK:
Now listen here, bitch. No one needs to know of me or the predicament you three are in. If I see any of you texting or using your phones then you will be shot. Consider this your only warning.

JANE actually looks terrified for once and hangs her head in disappointment like she is sad she disappointed DEREK.

DEREK:
Now where was I? Ah, yes. My stay in the looney bin as a spry, yet unwilling teen.

LIZ:
Wait...what happened with Josh?

DEREK:
All in due time, my stoned and buxom friend.

21. INT. The Looney Bin.
There are pastel colored walls and a room full of stumbling wrecks. Teenage boys and girls on Ritalin and Valium. There is a tv in the middle of the room and magazines and colored pencils strewn about. One boy catches the cameras eye.

OLDER DEREK:
(OS)
I met this fellow named Trevor in there, he was a half white, half dark boy with a bushy fro. Couldn't have been much younger than I. I struck up a friendship with him. He is very quiet and says crazy shit when he does speak.

16 year old DEREK:
If you give me your meds I will give you mine.

JERRY:
Have fun.

22. GROUP TIME AT THE LOONEY BIN!
All the schizoid wrecks of human beings converse about how hard their lives have been, all the while Trevor has a strange look in his eyes.

COUNSELOR:
So what makes you happy, Trevor?

TREVOR:
Rape and violence.

COUNSELOR:
(Raises eyebrow)
What was that?

TREVOR:
(Rather quietly)
Peace and silence.

COUNSELOR:
(sarcastically)
Oh, really?

TREVOR:
You must have misread me.

COUNSELFUCK writes on his notepad.

23. Same Looney Bin Place Different Looney Bin Time.
INT. DEREK and TREVOR'S room
DEREK is sleeping.
TREVOR is trying to pick the lock of the window with a paperclip and a plastic knife.
DEREK awakens.

DEREK:
I've been up for 3 days, and I (yelling) FINALLY GOT THE FUCK TO SLEEP! what THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

TREVOR:
I'm trying to get the fuck out of here!

DEREK:
Dude! Why? It's fucking awesome here! There is a sterile living environment, hot milfy nurses, television, 3 squares and a snack, plus you fucking know you aren't the craziest mofo in here! Everyone in here is either whoring or shooting smack! There is no such thing as a "troubled teen" anymore. That shit died in the 90's when they realized it was all the trip drugs their mothers did when they were pregnant. This is a new generation sir! It's 2005! You have at least 5 years to go before life is shitty for you, don't speed it up.

TREVOR:
They know I'm not taking my meds.

DEREK:
Well fuck, lets just switch back our meds! I don't need to speed like this, the voices won't fucking stop!

TREVOR:
Okay, maybe we will get out of here sooner and I will stop acting like a sociopath.

DEREK:
That's the ticket, m'boy!

24. On the outside.

DEREK:
You got a cigarette?

TREVOR:
No. I don't smoke.

DEREK:
Well, fuck! What good are you then?

DEREK pulls out a HEATER cigarette. They heat your throat with a 100% tobacco aroma.  He lights it.

DEREK:
You know what? I could use a guy like you in my corner when the voices start acting up again.

TREVOR:
What do you mean?

DEREK:
(Takes a long drag off his Heater)
You could tell me what not to do. Keep me cool. Jerry is a swift bastard, he is!

TREVOR:
Who the fuck is Jerry?

DEREK:
In due time you will find out. Jerry likes you though. Joe likes you too. They never agree on anything, which means you are cool. Just keep your head when things go awry.

TREVOR:
What the fuck are you on?

DEREK:
(flicks his cigarette)
Life and everything in it!

DEREK's car pulls up. It's JOSH in his Lincoln.

JOSH:
Dammit fuck brain, you were right!

DEREK:
I fucking told you!

DEREK acknowledges TREVOR.

DEREK:
This is my childhood pal Josh.

TREVOR:
Hey.

JOSH:
What kind of crazy are you?

TREVOR:
Not his kind, I assure you.

DEREK gets in the car.

DEREK:
I will see you around, man. I got work to do!

JOSH speeds out of the parking lot.

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                  CUT TO:

25. INT. APT. 3

JULIA:
So that's it? That's how you guys made up?

DEREK:
Well, I did make a phone call to him the previous day.

                                                                                                                                                                CUT TO:

26, Nuthouse the day before

DEREK picks up the phone.

DEREK:
Hey, man. You still mad?

JOSH:
(On the phone)
Nope. You were right. Dumb cunt left me for a 20 year old.

DEREK:
Kids these days, eh? I have a situation. I am inside the institute for the criminally insane and I need you to give me a ride out of here.

JOSH:
Why are you in there for?

DEREK:
My arms. Threatening nurses. Depression.

JOSH:
Goddammit you big fucking emo! I will be there soon.
  
                                                                                                                                                                CUT TO:

27. INT. Apt. 3

John F McCullagh "Olive, my lover of many a year"

Ray Lewis, your spokesman
is ripped and he's lean.
He's built like Adonis
and, by rep, very mean.
If I use "old Spice" body wash
as per his advice.
The ladies will swoon
as I'll smell so damn nice.

I'm short fat and Jewish-
a Nebbish at heart.
In intimate settings
I'm quite prone to fart.
So I bought "Old Spice" body wash
and lathered it on.
Then I entered the bedroom
and said "Babe, bring it on!"

Olive, my lover of many a year
was less than impressed
when I deigned to appear.
A giggle, a chuckle and then a guffaw
My confidence sagged
like my double chinned jaw.
"Darling, it may be you smell like Ray Lewis
but when my eyes open
You're short fat and Jewish."

The ad was misleading
and I feel like a fool
Not a mensch, more a reject
from a shallow gene pool.
Bad enough that the store
on my refund is reneging.
foreplay now requires
two hours of begging.

Avinash "limbs of an ancient olive tree"

I am the fool with the Cheshire smile
plastered upon a simpleton's face
of play-doh, pockmarked by the sordid edges
of an embittered past.

I am the weakling with the withered
limbs of an ancient olive tree
and
the soul of an inconsolable child.

Or rather, this is what they think.
This is what they whisper amongst
themselves with their
sharpened words waiting to
take the plunge.

One thrust... followed by another.
And then another. Bleeding me dry...
Each holding their words behind
their backs as they await their turn.

Blood washing away the veneer
of the humanity I surrounded
myself with.
Turning my heart cold
and my skin thick.

Or rather, that is what they think.
That is what they plan to do.
However they are wrong.
They have me figured as the fool.
But guess what...

They haven't figured me out.
They cannot see what is there
for the taking...

My Cheshire smile's warmth
is that of a compassionate sun,
and playful as the full moon
as she dances upon the lake's face.
It is a real smile...
One that burns into the heart.

They know not what they see.
They know not what they think.
That simpleton's face you see
is the mask that covers the face
of the old man who has
witnessed the essence of life
and knows the wisdom of silence.

That smile upon that face
towers above the clouds,
held up for the heavens to see
by Atlas-ian shoulders
that have borne the weight
of skeletons and ghosts aplenty.

They are not aware of this
nor have they given me
any chance to show them my wonders.
Already they have smothered
their senses with the 'poster boy'
image of their perceptions.

They have not seen the ramparts
of this castled body.
Not a body ready for a rump
on Olympian mosaics, mind you.
But a good body, none the less.

Where there should be muscles rippling
like water in a torrent, or bronzed like
the Wall-Street bull with its
-ahem-
noticeable problem...
Instead there lies the rolling hills
and knolls under
replete and lush earth toned skin.

It has served me well, this body.
Though it has its aches and pains,
it has not deserted me.
Loyal to the very end.

Do they see the loyalty
of their own?
Or do they see the faults
as the waning of their own past
readying itself to bombard
their 'faultless' and 'sturdy'
arches?

I may not have the supposed
savoir-faire of my peers
who have lost touch with their
inner noble kings of yore.
No... I have the gait of
the itinerant monk
whose measured footsteps reveal
his search for his nirvāna.

They have not seen my footprints
upon the glacial sands of this
universe's beach.
Nor have they felt the waves
that come roaring along the star trails
of that universe's reach.

But I do not hold anything
against them.
Nor do I pity them.
That would be the sorrowful
cry of ignorant arrogance.

Instead I smile that blinding
smile and laugh a hearty
laugh from my cavernous hollows.
I love them for their blindness
and for their stubbornness.
Because it is an endless cycle.
It is my life.

While writing this, my computer died. Rewrote everything from memory or rather I improvised.
Nigel Morgan "a retreat in *Olive* County, Florida:"

January Colours

In the winter garden
of the Villa del Parma
by the artist’s studio
green
grass turns vert de terre
and the stone walls
a wet mouse’s back
grounding neutral – but calm,
soothing like calamine
in today’s mizzle,
a permanent dimpsey,
fine drenching drizzle,
almost invisible, yet
saturating skylights
with evidence of rain.

February Colours

In the kitchen’s borrowed light,
dear Grace makes bread  
on the mahogany table,
her palma gray dress
bringing the outside in.

Whilst next door, inside
Vanessa’s garden room
the French windows
firmly shut out this
season’s bitter weather.

There, in the stone jar
beside her desk,
branches of heather;
Erica for winter’s retreat,
Calluna for spring’s expectation.

Tea awaits in Duncan’s domain.
Set amongst the books and murals,
Spode’s best bone china  
turning a porcelain pink
as the hearth’s fire burns bright..

Today
in this house
a very Bloomsbury tone,
a truly Charleston Gray.

March Colours

Not quite daffodil
Not yet spring
Lancaster Yellow
Was Nancy’s shade

For the drawing room
Walls of Kelmarsh Hall
And its high plastered ceiling
Of blue ground blue.

Playing cat’s paw
Like the monkey she was
Two drab husbands paid
For the gardens she made,
For haphazard luxuriance.

Society decorator, partner
In paper and paint,
She’d walk the grounds
Of her Palladian gem
Conjuring for the catalogue
Such ingenious labels:

Brassica and Cooking Apple
Green
to be seen
In gardens and orchards
Grown to be greens.

April Colours

It would be churlish
to expect, a folly to believe,
that green leaves would  
cover the trees just yet.

But blossom will:
clusters of flowers,
Damson white,
Cherry red,
Middleton pink,

And at the fields’ edge
Primroses dayroom yellow,
a convalescent colour
healing the hedgerows
of winter’s afflictions.

Clouds storm Salisbury Plain,
and as a skimming stone
on water, touch, rise, touch
and fall behind horizon’s rim.
Where it goes - no one knows.

Far (far) from the Madding Crowd
Hardy’s concordant cove at Lulworth
blue
by the cold sea, clear in the crystal air,
still taut with spring.

May Colours

A spring day
In Suffield Green,
The sky is cook’s blue,
The clouds pointing white.

In this village near Norwich
Lives Marcel Manouna
Thawbed and babouched
With lemurs and llamas,
Leopards and duck,
And more . . .

This small menagerie
Is Marcel’s only luxury
A curious curiosity
In a Norfolk village
Near to Norwich.

So, on this
Blossoming
Spring day
Marcel’s blue grey
Parrot James
Perched on a gate
Squawks the refrain

Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
And springþ þe wde nu,
Sing cuccu!

June

Thrownware
earth red
thrown off the hump
the Japanese way.
Inside hand does the work,
keeps it alive.
Outside hand holds the clay
and critically tweaks.
Touch, press, hold, release
Scooting, patting, spin!
Centering: the act
precedes all others
on the potter’s wheel.
Centering: the day
the sun climbs highest
in our hemisphere.
And then affix the glaze
in colours of summer:
Stone blue
Cabbage white
Print-room yellow
Saxon green
Rectory red

And fire!

July Colours

I see you
by the dix blue
asters in the Grey Walk
via the Pear Pond,
a circuit of surprises
past the Witches House,
the Radicchio View,
to the beautifully manicured
Orangery lawns, then the
East and West Rills of
Gertrude’s Great Plat.

And under that pea green hat
you wear, my mistress dear,
though your face may be April
there’s July in your eyes of such grace.

I see you wander at will
down the cinder rose path
‘neath the drawing-room blue sky.

August Colours

Out on the wet sand
Mark and Sarah
take their morning stroll.
He, barefoot in a blazer,
She, linen-light in a wide-brimmed straw,
Together they survey
their (very) elegant home,
Colonial British,
Classic traditional,
a retreat in Olive County, Florida:
white sandy beaches,
playful porpoises,
gentle manatees.

It’s an everfine August day
humid and hot
in the hurricane season.
But later they’ll picnic on
Brinjal Baigan Bharta
in the Chinese Blue sea-view
dining room fashioned
by doyen designer
Leta Austin Foster
who ‘loves to bring the ocean inside.
I adore the colour blue,’ she says,
‘though gray is my favourite.’

September

A perfect day
at the Castle of Mey
beckons.
Watching the rising sun
disperse the morning mists,
the Duchess sits
by the window
in the Breakfast Room.
Green
leaves have yet to give way
to autumn colours but the air
is seasonably cool, September fresh.

William is fishing the Warriner’s Pool,
curling casts with a Highlander fly.
She waits; dressed in Power Blue
silk, Citron tights,
a shawl of India Yellow
draped over her shoulders.
But there he is, crossing the home beat,
Lucy, her pale hound at his heels,
a dead salmon in his bag.

October Colours

At Berrington
blue
, clear skies,
chill mornings
before the first frosts
and the apples ripe for picking
(place a cupped hand under the fruit
and gently ‘clunch’).

Henry Holland’s hall -
just ‘the perfect place to live’.
From the Picture Gallery
red
olent in portraits
and naval scenes,
the view looks beyond
Capability’s parkland
to Brecon’s Beacons.

At the fourteen-acre pool
trees, cane and reed
mirror in the still water
where Common Kingfishers,
blue green with fowler pink feet
vie with Grey Herons,
funereal grey,
to ruffle this autumn scene.

November Colours

In pigeon light
this damp day
settles itself
into lamp-room grey.

The trees intone
farewell farewell:
An autumnal valedictory
to reluctant leaves.

Yet a few remain
bold coloured

Porphry Pink
Fox Red
Fowler
Sudbury Yellow


hanging by a thread
they turn in the stillest air.

Then fall
Then fall

December Colours

Green smoke from damp leaves
float from gardens’ bonfires,
rise in the silver Blackened sky.

Close by the tall railings,
fast to lichened walls
we walk cold winter streets

to the warm world of home, where
shadows thrown by the parlour fire
dance on the wainscot, flicker from the hearth.

Hanging from our welcome door
see how incarnadine the berries are
on this hollyed wreath of polished leaves.

HP Green "olive skinned,"

You asked for a poem,
but the truth is,
I don't know how to put us into words.
We are so imperfect.
But when I hug you, and lift your tiny, feather-weight self from gravity's grip,
there is nothing more familiar.
I could squeeze all night, try to squeeze you into myself,
where maybe I could keep you safe—be the hardened outer-layer to my little Lemon Drop.

We met at an age far from simple.
thirteen's complexities of spirit
is made up of much more than
ugly or pretty
white or black
sad or happy
mismatched or a puzzle piece fit.
It is made up of pieces, or wholes.

You came
olive skinned,
brown hair—with eyes to match,
laughter that tickled at the throat of any nearing neighbor,
and a smile that held both truth and fallacy.
The pretty one who fretted over petty.
You came,
In pieces.

I came
Fair skinned,
blonde hair and blue eyes,
an imagination that couldn't escape even itself,
and confidence unfit for such a character.
I came,
a whole.

Our friendship
came like love—unexpected and almost ungraceful
at first.
Our paths had history,
but this was where both of our stories began,
at the edge awkward
at the brink of becoming.

As time passed
it even felt like love now and then
I your rock,
you my little slice of sunshine.
As time passed
our bridges split our interests differed,
but we never lost sight of the pieces to our whole.

Tyler Nicholas "underneath the olive trees."

The choir girls on rooftops sing
songs of thanksgiving in
harmonious gleam
while the children dance
in vibrant gyrations
underneath the olive trees.

A fire burns while people cheer and chant,
and folk songs flutter like ash.
The sparks fly as burnt wood collapses
and the king takes his throne.

He addresses his court
with eager voice
that echoes across the fields
and all eyes and ears are keenly fixed
on his majesty.

He speaks:
"My people, my friends,
my enemies, my lovers -
from all lands far and wide -
will you open your eyes
and see your live like this?

There is no bloodshed or death
and I can see your lungs expand with each breath.

Now, please fill your cups
with the strongest of wines
and let music ring
with the loudest of chiming.
Let peace fill your souls
and love cloud your minds.

Lay down your swords,
pax et concordia
for love is the strongest of wards."

Anthony McKee "nal.       the        rusted          olive        uniform"

A C H T U N G

  acht         neun         acht         sechs          vier          fünf           zwo
sechs          drei         eins          fünf        sieben          acht           null
   the         radio            spews             over          and          over         again
  void of      meaning.           or                 so                 they          want
   us to         think           as          the       concrete           wall
keeps       standing.        they         came           to        liberate us
which         they               did. of       thought of        speech
   of         word.             see             the        ashen         blocks sit
aren’t         they        pretty?           as         dark           red        blotches
stain          their           smooth       surfaces           like        lipstick on
wine       glasses.           an           old          fan          turns         slowly
    in a         dusty         room          just               south of
Leipzig.       men        dream of         hazy       Stalinist        façades
    as          she        brings a      cigarette to           her
rouged        lips. Belomorkanal.       the        rusted          olive        uniform
  pulls        tighter           as           she        draws in.        octaves
bellow        from           the       speakers. it is           time
    to         hear          from the     homeland.          how         sickles
gleam         for           the         Union          just like they
   did          for         Lenin. we         don’t           talk          about
   him         now         though.         sickles         don’t         gleam here
   like         they          ought to.          the          reels          revolve
unforgiving   to the cry           of a          winter’s
  night.         the           ruby          snow         glints            in         torchlight.
   the          night          goes on. it           has    to.
sieben        sechs          vier          zwo         neun           drei          sechs
  eins        sieben          null         sechs         acht           fünf          sieben

E N D   E

Ormond "The dark vines grape of ancient olive, red"

Blooms of hair, shimmers and starlight,
Face of dream, gathers in lighted loom,
Wakes of morn, spotty forest fawn, child
To magi moon, maid of golden orchards,
Of faraway seas, world opened vastness,
Temptress of foreign fruits and the giving
Sun, where blue, blood oranges old, ripen,
The dark vines grape of ancient olive, red
Lamb and wine.

What enchanted lands are you made of?
Where the diving seas of dolphin, sponge
And whirlpool weave, wherein Gods must
Have loved and making you, left this earth
In beauty and peace, burnished with dream.

Fand (pronounced: fawned) is an early Irish sea goddess.  Her name is translated as "Pearl of Beauty".  She is seen as the most beautiful of goddesses.
Marty Schoenleber III "left on olive trees to die"

It came quickly, roots
broke through marbled concrete

And vines draped off
balconies of skyscrapers

Floor to ceiling windows
disappeared behind ivy

Some beasts melted into shadows
around the corner as their
barks were adopted
by the wind and pushed
in strollers by the howl
and the cold bite

In the air, you could hear
unattended car alarms

And neon signs flickering
on and off as they hum like
a deathbed, EKG flat-line

Hanged stoplights
swayed back and forth
off streetlight arms
bent like telekinetic spoons
spinning like criminals
left on olive trees to die

And the drab color seemed
strangely magnetic and
right
I can swallow a pretty big storm

How much can you expect anyone to understand apocalyptic depression?
 
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