jonny-angel - Hello Poetry

I woke up cold back on the slab in my tiny cell. My head was pounding. The last thing I remember before I dozed off was Mister Suit asking me baseline questions. Then it was a series of flashing memories. Sparks flying, Screams. Voices. A thrashing body. Bright blood splattered against the pale yellow walls, a face without eyes. I guess the pink pill worked, what are those ******* control boys going to do now? Nothing's traceable. Me 1. Them 0. It should be a wake-up call for them. Long live Moonstone! I know it's not over yet.

0

Jul 3, 2015

Jul 3, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC

Busted In B-Sector (Part Five) "Wake-Up Call"

I woke up cold back on the slab in my tiny cell. My head was pounding. The last thing I remember before I dozed off was Mister Suit asking me baseline questions. Then it was a series of flashing memories. Sparks flying, Screams. Voices. A thrashing body. Bright blood splattered against the pale yellow walls, a face without eyes. I guess the pink pill worked, what are those ******* control boys going to do now? Nothing's traceable. Me 1. Them 0. It should be a wake-up call for them. Long live Moonstone! I know it's not over yet.

26

Now I know how a vampire feels when he meets the stake. It ******* hurts.

0

Jul 2, 2015

Jul 2, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC

I Know How A Vampire Feels

Now I know how a vampire feels when he meets the stake. It ******* hurts.

4

It was classic, just like Delphi said it would be. Bright lights (I mean bright), yellow walls (shades of ***** a low hum (in the bass range). Mister Suit sporting a razor-thin mustache sat stoic at a long black table carrying a wry grin, his eyes shades of pitch. They unshackled me, hands pushed me down into a chrome chair with a firm red leather cushion. Screams came through the wall from the room next to us. I sat there just as stoic across from him with a wry smile of my own. It felt like a scene from a stereotypical sci-fi flic, it wasn't though. This was as real as it gets, these guys meant business. Guys like me were trouble for the Control Boys. They'd find out soon I wasn't a pushover.

0

Jul 1, 2015

Jul 1, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC

Busted in B-Sector (Part Four) "Round One"

It was classic, just like Delphi said it would be. Bright lights (I mean bright), yellow walls (shades of ***** a low hum (in the bass range). Mister Suit sporting a razor-thin mustache sat stoic at a long black table carrying a wry grin, his eyes shades of pitch. They unshackled me, hands pushed me down into a chrome chair with a firm red leather cushion. Screams came through the wall from the room next to us. I sat there just as stoic across from him with a wry smile of my own. It felt like a scene from a stereotypical sci-fi flic, it wasn't though. This was as real as it gets, these guys meant business. Guys like me were trouble for the Control Boys. They'd find out soon I wasn't a pushover.

32

The walk to the 'Brain Hole' was shorter than expected, but the muffled screams from behind locked doors I knew would be here, so they were of no concern, and besides, the fix was in place. These hooligans had no idea who they we're messin' with. You don't just sign up for the Moonstone Project, you get selected. Galactic insurrection is a serious business with serious consequences. And besides, I still had the pink pill hidden in a safe dark place. What, me worry about a few brain ******* machines? Not me. This was going to be fun.

0

Jun 30, 2015

Jun 30, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC

Busted in B-Sector (Part Three) "Brain Hole~The Beginning"

The walk to the 'Brain Hole' was shorter than expected, but the muffled screams from behind locked doors I knew would be here, so they were of no concern, and besides, the fix was in place. These hooligans had no idea who they we're messin' with. You don't just sign up for the Moonstone Project, you get selected. Galactic insurrection is a serious business with serious consequences. And besides, I still had the pink pill hidden in a safe dark place. What, me worry about a few brain ******* machines? Not me. This was going to be fun.

24

She is so sweet, so very fine. Pure succulent honey drips from her moist layers, my face covered with chopped nuts, ******** her waves, her trembling, overwhelming, I could eat her forever.

0

Jun 25, 2015

Jun 25, 2015 at 6:26 AM UTC

Baklava Girl

She is so sweet, so very fine. Pure succulent honey drips from her moist layers, my face covered with chopped nuts, ******** her waves, her trembling, overwhelming, I could eat her forever.

10

Ross was a fullblooded bronze-skinned buddy from the Navajo Nation. He was a diehard Okie, and a machine gunner, carried the M-sixty with twenty pounds of extra belted-ammo. He was a big guy, had brown deep-set eyes, high cheeks and not a single hair on his burly body, but some high and tight pitch bristles on his head. He had a weakness. Pure Straight Whiskey. Whenever he had too much, he was an F5 tornado, a wild Tasmanian devil, to be reckoned with. I remember when he had his front top teeth knocked out by some civilian bouncers at a local drinking establishment. He kicked the **** out of three huge muscle guys. It was him versus them. A regular melee. Ross won. Once on a Saturday night, drunk as skunks, we made an illegal turn on the Interstate south of Denver. We ended up flying down the highway with four hundred feet of wire attached to wooden poles, sent sparks flying everywhere. I never saw a guy laugh so hard in all my life. He ****** himself hysterically. We gave Ross his first Native American name. We were out in the field, just hanging out in battle gear, shooting the **** around our APC. We called him Prancing Moose, Moose for short. He loved it when we called him that, gave us a toothless grin. He was a warrior to us. In another time and place, he might have been a Chief. He was courageous, fearless and a good friend to have in your side. From time to time, I think about him, and pray he's okay, still alive. He was our blood brother. We were in hell together. I miss him, too.

0

Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC

Ross Henry a.k.a. Prancing Moose

Ross was a fullblooded bronze-skinned buddy from the Navajo Nation. He was a diehard Okie, and a machine gunner, carried the M-sixty with twenty pounds of extra belted-ammo. He was a big guy, had brown deep-set eyes, high cheeks and not a single hair on his burly body, but some high and tight pitch bristles on his head. He had a weakness. Pure Straight Whiskey. Whenever he had too much, he was an F5 tornado, a wild Tasmanian devil, to be reckoned with. I remember when he had his front top teeth knocked out by some civilian bouncers at a local drinking establishment. He kicked the **** out of three huge muscle guys. It was him versus them. A regular melee. Ross won. Once on a Saturday night, drunk as skunks, we made an illegal turn on the Interstate south of Denver. We ended up flying down the highway with four hundred feet of wire attached to wooden poles, sent sparks flying everywhere. I never saw a guy laugh so hard in all my life. He ****** himself hysterically. We gave Ross his first Native American name. We were out in the field, just hanging out in battle gear, shooting the **** around our APC. We called him Prancing Moose, Moose for short. He loved it when we called him that, gave us a toothless grin. He was a warrior to us. In another time and place, he might have been a Chief. He was courageous, fearless and a good friend to have in your side. From time to time, I think about him, and pray he's okay, still alive. He was our blood brother. We were in hell together. I miss him, too.

66

The first time I met Big Jim was in my shop. He walked in with a burning sage bundle, waving it in circles above his head. He told us he was smudging the place, said it was sort of an ancient cleansing ritual. My partner told him he couldn't do that, that it would ***** the customers, probably wasn't good for business, that he should put it out. Jim just stood there with the smoldering smudge bundle in the middle of the store looking dumbfounded and sad. I knew I was going to like the guy.

0

Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC

Big Jim And The Smudging Ritual

The first time I met Big Jim was in my shop. He walked in with a burning sage bundle, waving it in circles above his head. He told us he was smudging the place, said it was sort of an ancient cleansing ritual. My partner told him he couldn't do that, that it would ***** the customers, probably wasn't good for business, that he should put it out. Jim just stood there with the smoldering smudge bundle in the middle of the store looking dumbfounded and sad. I knew I was going to like the guy.

17

We wanted to start a program and call it climbing for the rez. We hoped to find serious candidates, young people who possessed the blood of their great ancestors. We had planned to harness, to rekindle the warrior spirit on high mountaintops covered with ice age glaciers. The lessons learned to reach the summit would last a lifetime. It was an excellent plan, a unique idea, to truly help fellow humans in need. But we found no money. It seemed no one, not a single corporate entity was interested in us helping potential warriors find their way. We had to scrub the idea...

0

Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC

The Scrubing of The Climbing For The Rez Program

We wanted to start a program and call it climbing for the rez. We hoped to find serious candidates, young people who possessed the blood of their great ancestors. We had planned to harness, to rekindle the warrior spirit on high mountaintops covered with ice age glaciers. The lessons learned to reach the summit would last a lifetime. It was an excellent plan, a unique idea, to truly help fellow humans in need. But we found no money. It seemed no one, not a single corporate entity was interested in us helping potential warriors find their way. We had to scrub the idea...

30

Eagleman taught me things about his people. He showed me the pipe, he talked about the way, the good red road, and the four directions. I was sitting in a sweat when I learned about Mother Earth. It was fascinating, felt so real and magical at the same time. I learned about animal spirits, the sundance, burning sage, and why his people danced like ghosts. But he didn't teach me everything. He said some things will always be a mystery. He said the Great Spirit wanted it that way. He told me if one listened hard enough to the fierce winds hugging the plains, you can hear the pain of his kindred, millions of souls crying in harmony to the beat of the drum.

0

Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC

Eagle Man (Ed McGaa)

Eagleman taught me things about his people. He showed me the pipe, he talked about the way, the good red road, and the four directions. I was sitting in a sweat when I learned about Mother Earth. It was fascinating, felt so real and magical at the same time. I learned about animal spirits, the sundance, burning sage, and why his people danced like ghosts. But he didn't teach me everything. He said some things will always be a mystery. He said the Great Spirit wanted it that way. He told me if one listened hard enough to the fierce winds hugging the plains, you can hear the pain of his kindred, millions of souls crying in harmony to the beat of the drum.

31

I'm a white guy, he called me Wasicu, but I have two eagle feathers, both with dyed porcupine quills. They were sacred gifts, given to me by my red guy friend, his name was Big Jim, he was a vet, he had scars from being pierced, and owned an eagle bone whistle.

0

Jun 4, 2015

Jun 4, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC

Eagle Feather Gifts From Big Jim

I'm a white guy, he called me Wasicu, but I have two eagle feathers, both with dyed porcupine quills. They were sacred gifts, given to me by my red guy friend, his name was Big Jim, he was a vet, he had scars from being pierced, and owned an eagle bone whistle.

14