The hallway seemed to sway with the motion of the tears filling my eyes. I tried to keep going to get to the door, but I collapsed there in the hall. The weight crashing down on me. She was dead. My only love was dead. I’d been with her for six years and we’d been waiting to get married. That was all over now. They had killed her. I laid my head in my hands and let it all go. I fell spiraling down into the darkness at the edge of my consciousness. My very last thoughts echoing in my head as I slipped into this grief coma, they would all pay, they would pay.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly as I made my way to Mr. Jefferson’s office. The hallways were empty, an unusual thing for a Monday morning in a business firm. I tried not to let it get in my head. I had a job to fulfill. If I didn't get this one right the boss would surely wring my neck. She wasn't the most understanding person, and tolerated no mistakes. A dark cherry wood door lay at the end of the long hallway with a silver plate spelling out Mr. Jefferson’s office. All the other doors I had passed had, had similar ones.
I knocked on the door quietly waiting for an invitation inside. I took a deep breath and steady myself. Telling myself I had to do this. There was still no beckoning to come in so I knocked louder, but was only greeted by silence. I opened the door quickly and peered in. Mr. Jefferson laid slumped over his paper work in the messy piles on his desk.
A bullet through his head. Well this was just great now the boss had another reason to chew me out. I closed the door quietly and made my way to the body. Blood spilled from the back of his head and off his shoulders dripping into the puddle on the floor. I took my phone from my pants pocket and called Leo.
“Hey, Leo we got a problem, Jefferson’s already dead. They’re a step ahead of us. What’s my next move?” the line was silent for a minute until he replied, “what was the cause of death?” I looked at the back of Jefferson’s head one more time to make sure that was no other abrasions. “Bullet wound in the back of his head, no sign of struggle either.”
“Alright, I’ll inform the boss. You should probably make your way back to the headquarters. I can tell you now the boss isn't going to be happy.” I sighed I already new that. The bitch had been riding my ass all month now. It wouldn't hurt her to give us all a break once in a while. I closed my phone. I made my way out the door. No doubt someone else would find Jefferson and would immediately go for the video tapes.
Luckily I didn't come here alone, I brought my computer genius along, that could erase us from every tape and cover his tracks. I gave a polite smile to each person I passed and had to fight to walk calm and smoothly out the front doors. Brain already waited inside the car looking anxious. We were both fairly new to the working in the field. Usually the boss assigned me on small assignments. I got inside the drivers side and pulled out right away. “Jefferson was already dead when I got there, bullet wound to the back of the head, what I don’t understand is how no one heard it, or why he didn't struggle,” I told Brian. “Maybe a silencer on the gun? And perhaps his lack of struggle was because there was a gun pointed at his head?” I thought it over. It was possible but that was different from all the others. “They usually cover their tracks better than that though,” I looked over at Brain whose face was crinkled by his deep thoughts. “Maybe they were in a rush?” The wound had looked freshly made. “Perhaps,” I said still mulling it over. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait for the police reports.”
As I had figured Liana was furious. “How is it that four out of seven of the people I've told you to get information from then take out have ended up already dead when you got there?” She spit angrily in my face. Liana was a scary lady but she didn't scare me.
“I don’t know you tell me,” I said and smiled at her. I could feel the audience behind me stop what they were doing and cringe. “Do you think this is funny?” Liana said quietly.
Her face had gone rigid and her fist clenched so tightly at her sides, the knuckles had turned a ghostly white.
I knew which battles to fight and which to surrender. “No, nothing is funny,” I spat out clenching my jaw. I really hated this stupid job. If it wasn't for Liana keeping my brother alive I wouldn't be here. And just as I thought it Liana cheerfully reminded me, “do remember darling, your brothers life lies in my hands. One wrong move and it’s bye bye brother, understood?” Her dark eye’s drilling into mine. The feeling of hatred seeped from my body as it was overflowing inside me now. “Understood,” I growled.
“Good, now get out. I’ll call you when I have your next assignment.” She turned but stopped to look back,
“ and next time do not mess up,” then walked back into her office slamming the door.
I let the breath I had been holding out and left quickly before they all burned holes into me with their heavy glares. I made my way to Kyle’s room. The walls were painted dark blue with small silver stars painted all over. I had painted it for him, he loved the stars. “Kyle?” I said shakily looking down at the boy. His tiny body shaking in pain. He wouldn't eat. The vomiting broke his bones sometimes. His bones stuck through his skin like his skin had only been draped over his frail bones. The tears flowed from my eye’s and down my face. He was only fifteen.
He was so sick, I just wanted him to be okay. Healthy again. The reason I’d signed up to join this place was because they promised to save him. They said as soon as I finished the biggest assignment they would heal him. But I grew more and more doubtful.
Kyle had been infected, by the scientist. A super parasite they’d created. It caused brain disorders, like anorexia. Kyle’s brain was being attacked making him suicidal and making him believe he was anorexic. Making him believe he had to do these things. When it first started he was only depressed. He began cutting himself. When I saw the deep cuts in his arms and on his stomach I asked him about it and his answer had been, “I didn't want to do I just had to“ . At the time I’d misunderstood him.
Now I knew. He literally had been forced by the parasites inside his brain.
His eye’s were closed and I could see the struggle it took for him to intake each breath. His arms, thin ropes, laid at his side. It took a massive amount of energy and strength for him to even turn his head. “I will fix this Kyle, believe in me when I tell you that, I love you.” I kissed his cold forehead and left shutting the door slowly.
Few are quite willing to go off and fight,
The sadistic and evil, in the name of what's right.
But all of us struggle as we try to attain,
The lives that we thirst for amidst all the pain.
We live with decisions that often defy,
Our own moral codes on how to get by.
We search for so long, for what makes us strong,
for what makes us weak, and where we belong.
And just when we think that we've gone through it all,
That we've gained all the knowledge of what might befall,
Reality and Life return to their place,
Keeping us guessing and changing their pace.
Ours mind and emotions like to play games,
and we search for our scapegoats in place of our blames.
With this, come frustrations that continue to grow,
Disrupting life's peace and life's even flow.
The scars from these battles are not easily shown.
Hidden as secrets; remaining unknown.
The battle within is the struggle of one.
In place of the many; in place of the gun.
i am on the beach /
waiting for my resurrection
with the sand in my bad eye and
the smell of goose shit pungent and intrusive, uninvited.
2:30 pm , friday of may 24 weekend;
the beach is flat and empty of girls
(for whom i am waiting)
(will they know
how to save me ??) .
so far i have avoided sitting on a 3.5" nail, rusted, protruding from the duneside,
and several shards of a broken bottle beer,
keen to shred my winter-softened feet with their angry brown fangs.
i will pick up as much of the glass as i can find and go home, calling myself
a good samaritan.
"you're a shit." some seagulls say from the lake.
i pick up a rock and let fly. they are just out of range.
"you're a shit." they repeat as i walk back towards the footpath.
they are probably right.
One day i felt, that i've accepted the request,
request of sharing, caring and that i need to connect,
it's not just any connect, like that one on the internet,
it's a request of a big event, from the east to the west,
we're just like the stars in the skies,
some of us are beginning and some of us are dying,
ones are winning and the others are learning,
i'm just really really happy though,
i don't care about tomorrow,
that's how i live without any sorrow,
and i don't live under regrets,
the answer is not by smoking a cigarette,
we're stuck in repeating the alphabet, to be honest,
like a shooting rocket, lost in darkness, not promised,
most of us should stop being dishonest,
that we are the largest, generation of the artists,
we have been blessed,
i just wish we all will end up,
in a relationship like the one between me and my bed,
and if you get misunderstood,
don't be upset, just forget,
and deal with the new set,
you're the best version of yourself, yet,
just do a duet with the old and the new you,
you'll sweat, forget and maybe will even melt,
you need to accept, and suggest,
support yourself one hundred perfect,
respect, and stop being against,
and believe that you are best of the best,
just remind yourself you're imperfectly perfect,
and it's not a threat, you are a result,
of what and who you'll collect,
you are the target,
and the target is you,
If you look in the face of evil,
evil's gonna look right back at you!
- Layth Awwad
She is equipped with sensitive nipples
and those other secret places
that ladies give out as prizes
to deserving guys as long as
they adopt the right disguises
of gods, gurus, intellectual giants,
goats, children, father figures, macho brutes,
sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels,
house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects,
handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems,
sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types
who can also pay the bills,
tall dark and handsome total strangers,
toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires,
wood choppers, rubbish removers,
bottomless reservoirs of reassurance
or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right.
In fact, anything but woffly wimps.
Oh God, no. Anything but woffly wimps.
Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS,
you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys
who won’t face-shift for a shag?
Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now.
I think that the woman is dripping
with a brimming reservoir
of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for
the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope
of swirling dreams and desires,
which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent.
Although please don't be confused.
Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome,
aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio,
who are students, who appear to be intellectuals,
who are not nerds,
and who can hump it in the kitchen, who can be oh, so cool,
who can convince a maiden that she is in distress,
and is in need of rescuing, and who has
a swaggering hard-on will do, too.
Oooh. You devil.
And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic,
well, I’ve been around and by now, well,
I should be panoptic
because I’ve seen all the fads,
and really, it’s sadly too bad
about those poor old
But you know what?
even after all of this,
it would be dishonest of me to brag
that I know much
about women at all
because I'm really a total ignoramus
and I'm just another work in progress.
Of course, I like preposterous and circuitous,
cirrocumulus, curmudgeonly and humungous,
audacious and bodacious,
irradiance, iridescence and magnificence,
flamboyant, fandango and flibbertigibbet,
(but this is difficult to say when you’re drunk),
sumptuous, salacious, slithery, sexy and glistening,
crepuscular, strumpet and strawberry.
And I may as well include whipped cream
here as well, because this can be laid on in dollops,
and dollops is really an excellent word.
Drooling is also highly evocative,
and I don't need to be provocative to observe
that even weapons can drool.
However, I'm really very flexible, because
in my lexicon, low moaning noises are OK, too.
These sounds are actually part of the chord of creation
and the primal reverberation from the time of
primordial ooze, which would be great between my toes.
Then there's protozoa, spermatozoa and also
wriggling flagella everywhere. So there.
I think we should also celebrate salivate,
and also onomatopoeia that helps choose words to display here.
Words I don’t like include don’t, can’t,
stop and mustn’t. Also, irascible, indescribable,
unmentionable and ineffable, impotent, incoherent,
incontinence, leaking colostomy bags,
importune and misfortune,
gawping, cavernous and cretinous,
circumambulatory and pursed lips.
These words should get the heave-ho.
And I definitely don't like parsimonious and mendicant,
which are miserable words.
Words which I abhor even more,
include cunt, which is an insulting word, and
being taxonomical, the score of this word is astronomical.
Hate is also right up there on this list. Hate is abominable
because it tries to destroy love,
and love should be indomitable.
is one of the
in the world.
Mike T Minehan
Today is lonely as God cries over the earth with feverish passion. It would be a lie if I said I wasn't looking for Love on these days. Those leg kickin', back scratchin', tummy rubbin' days. Where the heat stretches for miles, and the storms flood for awhile. On those days I'm looking for Love. Walking down a road as long as time itself. Wind whippin' my hair, breeze kissing my cheeks, this is the time I remember you. The way you held my attention as close as you held my heart. I wonder where you are now, even when you are right in front of me.
careful wanderers into wild wanton beasts
kindergartners follow them right off the ledge
clutching lunch pails & daddy’s ideas
about class warfare
prices of coal, oil, other things doomed for obsolescence
& how not to love
just lie there without saying anything at all
& watch it all crumble back into squalling baby dinosaurs
it’s midnight & I’m with you
you’re learning about economics
hyperbole & statistics
the way my freckles move depending on my frown
& how not to trust
never bet on anything that talks
push your pencil close & mark me
my psychoses already knows what owns me
watch the pupils turn in the eyelids
hear me name the other thing that torments
move closer & pretend I called for you
cover my mouth with those utilitarian hands
remind me who I’m whipped by
take the throat
remind me who I stay by
& who I’m slain by
grab the blunt end & point the sharp one here
wipe the crust from your eyes
wake up! wake up!
God needs you.
In a Sense of the Word of the Way...
I am in a coma.
Do you understand such verbal waves of reality, bent?
Do know when happiness...froze?
She thaws it, It thaws it. That one word...or a song.
However, most of the time...
Yes, in fact..solid, in fact.
Patriarchal remains, An Elder without a right to live.
I'd offer you my sword, if you were so brazen to impale yourself upon it.
Show me to the Sun.
I'll behead you and set you free.
I’ve got to tell you,
yes, you, Muse,
that you can be a real little tart, sometimes,
just flirting with me
and merely swirling your skirts.
And I’m so fucking vulnerable!
You hear that? I’m weak!
I’ve been meekly saying yes, yes,
thankee missus, so pathetically obsequious,
while tugging my forelock, or something else,
before scribbling about these ridiculously tantalizing
little glimpses you’ve been flashing me,
just the merest snatch of insight,
when I so desperately need, you know, the whole enchilada!
Now look here.
You’ve got to go a hell of a lot farther than just flirting with me!
I need your hot little chilli, see?
Maybe sink my teeth right into your euphorbia poissonii!
Even if this fucking well kills me.
Mike T Minehan