*****


Apr 7, 2012, 6:08:21 PM by ~OmegaWolfOfWinter
Journals / Personal




"Name: Amelia Weissmuler. Date of birth: June 6th, 1920. Test subject number 314-X. Specimen: Tiger." Amy heard all of this through a haze of sedatives that had begun to lose their already poor effect. She turned in the direction of the voice and saw a fearsome **** SS General standing behind a white clad scientist with a heavy accent. The general said nothing but listened and watched as Amy was strapped down to a cold metal table, completely **** with various wires, tubes and needles protruding from her flesh. She groaned painfully, the needles were extensive, and the **** scientists had no care of decency or respect. she was hit with another sedative and before she lost consciousness she heard the scientist, who she guessed was Dr. Heismeiller, say, "Name, Mordecai Dansker, former Major of the Third *****. Date of birth: September 19th, 1919. Test subject 14-W. Specimen: Wolf. As you
can see, Heir General, these are both healthy specimens, as are the test subjects." Amy heard a
rattling of cages. Her vison slowly went dark but not before seeing the doctor's face, uncovered and psychotic.
* *
When Amy woke up again, she was being suspended from the floor, the tubes and wires accompanied by menacing electrodes. there was an unnatural blue and white crackling of electricity around her, illuminating the other suspended tables nearby, the bodies in various grotesque positions and levels of decay. she tried to scream but found a machine unceremoniously shoved in her mouth, stretching deep inside her. she looked and saw nothing but obscene machines and various glass tubes of colored bubbling liquids. she tried sluggishly to break free but to no avail. what little strength she had was useless against the torturous devices emplanted in and around her. "Doctor, begin the experiment."
"Yaboe!" She heard a solid click resound through the room and heard a male scream in another room. the screams echoed for a long while, then nothing. she heard a gasp of releif from
the doctor and, "General! Subject 14-W... he has... Survived!"
"Good. now start on the frauline." there was a large thud from outside the room. "Quickly! this facility is under seige!"
"Yes sir, heir general. Test subject 314-X prepped and ready. Begin phase 1." she cried out silently as the needles burned hot inside her and the tubes boiled her insides. the electrodes soon incapacitated her and she fell unconscious.
*
*
"Phase 1 complete, heir general, subject is ready, proceeding to Phase 2."
Amy felt an intense burning around the needles, and an electric fire through her veins. the machine had been taken from her mouth, but she doubted she could scream any more, as her throat was raw from the silent screams of Phase 1. She felt her body shake uncontrollably as more electric shocks were administered. she was left panting and slumped over. "Sequence complete, the bonding process was a success." there was another thud and sediment from the roof fell to the floor. "Get her down now! They will be through soon!" She was lowered to the ground and unstrapped from the table, picked up, and placed on a stretcher. she raised her hands on front her face and nearly fainted, her hands, or paws, resembled that of a tiger, and as she looked, her whole body was covered in a slick orange, black and white fur. She was put into the backseat of an armored car with a simple blanket draped around
her. Amy felt nauseated
as the car sped off. It hit a bump in the road and she moaned painfully, clutching her furry belly and retching. the **** next to her turned away in disgust. the car ride was long and sickening, and she lost consciousness twice, and finally she tried to lay down in the cramped space. when the armored car finally stopped, she was pulled from the back seat and carried over a soldier's shoulder and into a small bunker. Once inside, amy heard a metal door open and was laid down onto a stiff bed with a single pillow and a single cover. There was a small window in the cell, a drab, grey stream of light shining in her eyes. She propped herself up on her elbow and shielded her eyes from the blinding contrast. Once her eyes adjusted, amy noticed that things had a particular sharpness to them and she had an acute awareness of things based on scent. she stood shakily, and noticed she was almost
six inches taller now, and her new tail swished back and forth along the concrete floor. she stepped
forward and grasped the iron bars and peeked out, seeing a black leather messenger bag and a black uniform lined with white. she couldn't quite reach the uniform, but was able to get a claw around the strap of the messenger bag. she pulled it closer to her and saw that her initials were monogrammed into the leather. she pulled it through the bars and opened the bag, pulling out a small, blank, leather bound journal and a pen. still ****, she sat on the bed and practiced writing, tearing out two pages of scratch paper. She began her journal with, "I am no longer the person i once was. i am something new, something... different."
• * *
The **** captain stepped into the bunker and saw amy, half lying, half dangling on the bed, the leather journal clutched close to her chest. he stormed into the cell and backhanded her awake, snatching up the journal as she cowered in the corner, her tail wrapped around her. the captain flipped through the pages of the journal and then closed iit with a snap. he glanced at it and dropped it on the bed. "it is yours now, Frauline. you are very special to the third *****. the fuhrer himself has asked for you to be placed in the Waffen SS and trained." amy glanced at the uniform on the table outside the cell and he nodded, "specially tailored for you, frauline. he stepped outside the cell and grabbed the uniform, setting it down on the bed. "you may Change into your new uniform and join the rest of us outside." he stepped outside and she was alone. she donned the simple uNdergarments then
slipped into the soft black trousers, after which she put on her military boots. next she put on the black and white jacket signature of the SS. the jacket was sleek and menacing, though it did little to flatten her chest, but that, she supposed, was one of her feminine charms. last was her hat and armband, both adorned with the *******. she gathered the leather messenger bag and stepped outside the cell, where a mirror stood, giving her a chance to see what had been done, the black uniform was a dramatic contrast to her brightly colored fur, and her new black stripes added a fierce look to her. she grinned and flashed menacing white teeth. she turned her body, looking at herself from different points of view. she slipped the **** armband onto her right arm and turned to leave. she stopped when she encountered a high pitch noise right next to the door. for the moment she just walked past, opening the door and adjusting her vision to the outside light. the layout was grey and barren,
as it always was in wartime. the captain was waiting for her along with a small squad of SS troops. a
Few laughed and remarked at her appearance, making cat noises and wolf whistling at her. she glared at them with a bright white snarl carved into her soft face. *they will fear me...
she saluted the captain and said, "heil ******." he returned the gesture, "heil. you are now part of the Waffen SS, frauline Amelia."
"please sir, its amy."
he noted her directness and ferocity, "very well, amy. before we assign you a task, though, you must prove yourself." he addressed the squad, "they are all corporal's and sergeants. you are merely a private. you will gain a rank for each one that you ****. however, they have been told that if they do not force you to submit, they will be killed or sent to the russian front. so you best fight your hardest, private amy."
as he finished, the squad set down their Mauser 98K's and MP-40's and stepped closer to her. her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in ferocious determination. there were twelve of them.
"Fight!"
• *
Amy took a fighting stance and faced her attackers. she attempted a punch at the nearest one but was kneed in the gut, she was thrown back a few feet. she fell to her knees and clutched her stomach with one hand, holding herself upright with the other. tears sprung to life in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks. she fought the tears back and stood, feeling her claws extend. she swiped at a soldier's throat, catching him right in the throat. blood splattered the ground as he choked on his own fluids. the remaining eleven were taken aback slightly, allowing her to pounce another soldier, punching and tearing at his gut with lethal force. her fur was bloodstained and she waited a moment too late, watching the cavity she created fill with blood. she was barreled over, the wind knocked out of her by a sergeant. she lay on her back, gasping for air as the soldiers closed in,
landing a few punches and sending her reeling back. she staggered back, struggling for breath. she
Bumped up against something and realized it was a bunker wall, she was trapped. she thought quickly and decided for a new course of action, she waited for one of them to gather his bravado and throw a solid punch at her, which was useless, she grabbed his wrist and smashed his head against the wall, filling his helmet with blood and brains. in the same move, she had grabbed his Luger and had downed three more of the remaining ten. in their moment of confusion she kicked the closest one in the fork of his legs and followed up with a pistolwhip. the man went down quickly and died by the heel of her merciless boot. the remaining six charged at her, one falling by her last bullet and another caught a swift kick in the ribcage, shattering the bones to peices. the rest of the men were sergeants, and they began to retreat, running into the open field. she was about to chase after them when she
heard another Luger fire. she turned to see the captain shooting the deserters. each fell, one by
One by the captain's gun to her surprise he let a single man go. "you have done very well, frauline amy. you have killed eight out of twelve men, not bad at all."
she was panting, her uniform dirtied, "why.. did you let.. him go?"
the captain smiled, "someone has to spread you're reputation, heir captain."
she gaped at him. "i am... captain?"
"yaboe, heir frauline. you have proved yourself worthy to serve under the fuhrer."
she saluted him, "thank you, heir captain."
*
amy wrote in her journal as they were driven to one of the Stalags: "my promotion to captain has earned me my choice of weapons, ive chosen a few, two long barrel Luger's, a cavalry saber, and a sixteen foot bullwhip. i also carry an automatic Mauser in my messenger bag. other than a few knives carefully hidden on my body, that should be it. ive become the fuhrer's favorite enforcer, though i feel as if i'm forgetting something..."
amy closed the journal and placed it in her bag with a soft snap.
Amy waited for a **** private to open the car door and let her out, tapping her foot impatiently. when he finally came, she had a luger pointed at his chest. "you're late. she got out of the car and shot him, holstering the pistol as he crumpled to the ground. the colonel in charge rushed towards her, "what is the meaning of this?!"
"your man on watch was late, and now he'll never be late again. and also, colonel, as i am a captain in the SS, i am your superior officer and you WILL adjust yourself accordingly or i will replace you with someone who will."
his expression was that of shock, "y-yes, heir captain, please follow me." he escorted her quickly to the main building. amy glanced around at the peering POWs, glaring at them with distaste as they whistled at her. "who's the kitty?" "what the hell is that?"
her hands fell to her lugers and she was ready to fire when she was beckoned inside by the colonel and she followed behind him reluctantly. "you should control your prisoners.
i find an overall lack of order in this camp. you're lucky i'm in a good mood, or i'd have you strung up for incompetence. lets hope my further evaluation of this... facility... does not make me any more inclined to do so."
the colonel stuttered again and dipped his head, "y-yes heir captain."
she stepped outside unopposed by any. she snapped her fingers and a sergeant rushed to her side and saluted. she handed him a journal logbook and he opened it to the page marked with the Stalag number. she entered the closed off areas of the stalag to inspect the barracks.
*
amy's fists were clenched with rag, a prisoner mocked her from within his confines. his fellow prisoners pleaded with him to stop. "she's lethal!" "she killed eight SS sergeants and corporals singelhandedly her first day!"
the prisoner ignored them and began gesturing at her. she snapped her head up and their eyes met for an instant, she growled through a gritted snarl and was over the fence in mere moments. once over,
the prisoner that mocked her was now on the ground, his throat between her fangs. he cried out once and then gurgled blood as she tore out his throat. she spat the flesh onto the dirt and stood, brushing the dusty particles from her uniform. the men around her backed away when she approached them, and watched her cautiously as she stepped back out of the fenceline. amy picked up her cap from the ground and brushed it off. one of the prisoners called for a doctor, and when one of the guards began to look for one, she merely said, "no, he wont survive. leave him be."
the soldier saluted and went back to his post. she walked up to the colonel and said, "your prisoner annoyed me, as do you, colonel. you have three days to turn this place around or you'll end up worse off then your prisoner over there."
the colonel had turned a pale white and whispered, "understood, captain."
she returned to her quarters and listened for a moment as the colonel shouted orders. "that was fun." she remarked.

Amy was asleep in one of the larger rooms in the main  building, her uniform folded neatly on the table near the bed. she kep one luger on her bedside table and the mauser under her pilllow. her other luger, her sword and her whip were next to her clothes. she was clad only in her fur, as she'd found that the most comfortable way to sleep.
she was woken up by a knock at the door. she blinked her eyes a few times. clutching the mauser handle with one hand and holding the blanket to her chest with the other, she said, "what is it?"
"the colonel wishes to speak to you, heir frauline."
she growled, "grrr... fine. tell him to make it quick." she clutched the blanket closer as he opened the door. she held the mauser aimed at him and said, "turn." he did so without hesitation. she slipped cautiously out of the bed and began to dress. "what is it you wished to speak with me about, colonel?" amy put on her undergarments and then pulled her trousers up to her waist, fastening the belt comfortably.
"there is an important telegram for you, heir captain." she pulled on the jacket over her simple shirt, tugging out any wrinkles. "oh? from who?" next came the holster belts, each hanging slightly lower than her first belt. her sword was another belt, and there was a custom clip there for her whip as well.
"Himler, he has special orders for you." her messenger bag was next to last, slung over her shoulder before she slipped into her boots. ""You can turn now. hand them here." she stepped closer to him and took the envelope with her name scrawled on the front. the colonel excused himself so she could read the orders, "captain amelia weissmuler, once you have completed your assignment at Stalag 14, please make haste to stalingrad as there has been a number of our own turning against the *****. see to it that they cause no more problems. -heinrich himler"
she read it through three more times before folding it and placing it in her bag. she hurried outside, grabbing her hat
From the dresser.
* *
amy went about her inspection, seeing nothing wrong today. "the condition of stalag 16 has improved, heir colonel. well done. now send my car around." the colonel grinned and motioned for the car.
the black car adorned with swastikas roared to life, coming up beside her. the d

Carefree in leisure time, one blasé tourist,
almost happy, I once had collected a complicated stone;
after the sunny hours had ended and last opportunity
for keepsakes began.

In my hand the stone had kept all of its mouths sewn shut,
holding its amalgamated story, and likewise in the car,
on the plane, through US Customs where it was not
in the least suspected.

A thumbnail identity I now should guess at, marking an old date,
and fixing it to, with reasonable estimate, a map location:
Plot No. 243, East end of the island, slave sugar plantation,
the stone from the corner of a ruined sugarmill stair—
broken free by my criminal hand.

The stone like a bleached out mini-monolith,
square rectangular, could be stood on end;
was swollen at its center like a pulled cork.

What could have moved this sequestered world to opening?
That was not for me to exactly discover,
except what came on Christmas Day,
two days after my returning.

Slave watercourses, the sight of innumerable Dutch ships,
ballasted with human flesh and hewn rock
for sugar works buildings.

The drop at-arms-swish of the Driver’s bullwhip.
Flecks of spirit splayed on vegetation.

A mongrel dog barked beyond the windless wall of sugarcane
in centipede and mosquito heat.

Seaside, beautiful seaside impressions;
distant coral light shadows, etched deep azure;
snowy colored breakers that pencil-marked the sea.
The staid, vibrant, mocking power
of visual symphony backdrop.

So little of aid for the slaves, but for those dangerous secrets,
un-housed in the fallen coolness of the night:
demonstratively crystalline heaven of stars;
a ragged moon, clouds scudding eastward toward Africa.
And there -- Orion’s Belt, mid-sky, illustrious bright,
with its three centering star points in rational line,
as if Hope could have flung its anchor onto Life
engendering sanctified resistance.

Christmas morning, 5 a.m.
I had awakened from a stuck place, shapeless and dark,
half in dreaming and half knowing I was in no dream.

I was sobbing, yet strangely, because there were no tears.
I had only put the stone inside my pajama top onto my heart.

The idea seemed like all my others genius why think  it through
had my parents ?
**** no if it wasnt for wild turkey  loud music wild women and
bad desiscions   gonzo wouldnt be here.
Thanks for being a party girl mom.

We had gotten hitched  i always said if i found a woman
who could out drink me under the table was smokin hot  and meaner than a rattle snake and would actully have *** with me without charging.
I would make my wife.

From the moment Skeeter had stepped into my life and said hey what
the ******* lookin at ***** ?
I knew that pint size ******* was the one.

And finally after my in house arrest and her brief vacation in Rikers was up we finally  tied the knott  and got married  but enough with the foreplay  children.

Like two insane people  with a shared thought.
The first night was outstanding the second even better she was like a
hot female  version of me.
A teenage hellcat who should have been busted for filling out that sweater  thank god for citezens arrest.

The first  week flew by Ya think we can everday?
My dear  if you just put your mind to it  and some other parts.
I know we  can.
Yes  to have a dream  and to be horney with someone
who shares  the same  dream is a wonderful thing.
Till you have to slip her roofies to get some sleep.
I knew thoose pills would come in handy  than for
just having them for  blind dates.

Although Ive learned your supposed to not take them also.
Then its just awkward waking up looking to the other person
saying hey  what happend and why are we in the burger king rest room?

After a few weeks i learned why people  actully spoke to each  other
and had these thing's called conversations.
I learned my Skeeter   loved halloweeen  for how could she not with so many costumes.
And she had a a real passion for law inforcement  with all the handcuffs  and tazers  a couple badges  a cop car  hmm makes me
wonder could it be yes your right.
People  really get carried away playing dungeons and dragons.

The first month was great the second made me rethink taking vitamins  she reminded of a  hamster in a wheel runnng without stop
just taking breif breaks  to hit the bottle  of Jack  Daniels
I miss working the pet store.

Leaving the house to  stagger to the bar  myself worn like a
a cheap motels matress.
Skeeter glowing like a neon sign if a neon sign were prone to random acts of violence.
Speaking sweet  nothing's to each other  like I love you sugar ,
did you hide the bullwhip ?  And hey wake up you drunk ******.

Her eye's  a work of true beauthy  that read  **** with me
and i'll knock your **** in the dirt   or light you on fire
ahh romance  it is grand and slightly dangerous and painful at times.

The night alive the drinks flowing  the waitress  a attractive  yet
soon to be mauled victem  of a five three spitfire.
The paper read of something i belive they call them numbers
dam you davinnci code.

Befor I could  down the wild turkey order four more and say in the name of Bono.
She sprang from her seat like a  miniture ninja leaping over the bar.
tackling the woman who had angred my mighty banshee.

the fight was epic and i did what any good red  bloodedand whiskey fueled pervert  would do I sat there and cheered on this cat fight.
get her honey it was a true sitght to be seen  hair being pulled
clothes being ripped off  okay i added that one.

And as a voice echoed over the crowd that said
hey who is that  hot crazy *****.
I turned  to the  man pointed saying  look its raining  
*****   and Adam Lambert  oddly enough he looked.

the sucker punch was fast hard and hurt like a son of
a *****  sorry but thats not just any hot insane horney carzy *****
thats my  teenage nymphomaniac  homicidle costume collecting halloween loving demon with a touch of sweetness wife.

The cops had arrived  but strangley enough Skeeter knew them all by
name.
Im starting to belive she might have a thing for tazers.
The questions flew around sir what caused this and why are you not wearing any pants.

She was in a rant so like any semi sober man  I decicded to set her straight  well  kinda.
And you!
I cant belive you take her number  the rage filling within her
building like a volcano  of pint sized sexiness mean chicks
are hot.

Well  honey I ment to tell ya mid flight  that was the bar tab.
Suprize.

And after i awoke from acoma  my hellcat in my hospital bed
I looked from a black eye saying skeeter  i love you more
with every day that does pass.
To which my teenage ******  replyed good.
God cause if ya didnt Gonzo id have to kick your drunken semi sane long winded  ***.

she calms herself, a momentary lulling
then strikes with rattlesnake venom
this bullwhip wind,
with the whole World shaking in her hair.

Calcified age lines,
driftwood was once a shiny ship:
hallowed bow, curved spine, dead.

Jaundiced and gaunt didn’t appear
until after the fact,
break a bottle on its back
because I'm facedown,
dead drunk, waves of saliva breaking
desperately against the asphalt.
Tree branches grappling together in the wind
are handsome
like a handshake
in a bad poem
but they're just trees, just wood.
I am slowburning like an all natural cigarette.

Jaunt through the woods. Drinking spot.
Acrid friends.
Warm bonfire, I want it to be more like a movie.  
Davy Jones my sorrows. Sitting on a log.
Rock bottom and I’m sitting on a log.
Weird girl comes over, she’s artsy and dyslexic.
I hate that word. Artsy. *******.
She asks if I’m okay and I say yeah.

At home,
exhume pillowcase from *****,
futon forget-me-nots
some thick haired little boy
had curled up to die inside;

Post embrace.
Crashed; a solemnly sinking ship captain
with skin peeling like lottery tickets
too leather-faced to shout anything but
TEN THOUSAND THUNDERING TYPHOONS
as he goes down
with his cracked nymphal exoskeleton
wipes the fire off his brow
he is burning like an all natural cigarette
but phoenixes are not legends
they are metaphors,
and that is enough difference for me.

The sea is salty and stinging
and they say
a smooth one
never made a skillful sailor
but you cannot build a ship
out of driftwood,
just watch one deteriorate into it.

Maybe that’s the point.

For three years,
I found myself in an oozing freefall
base jumping as I carved through the air
like an anchor
parachute made of somber bottle twist
carved cork and microscope slide,
salt stained shoes,
brackish eyes
distort flashes of organic sunlight
thick necked forays into begging for fare
at deserted train stations
lashed out at friends with bullwhip arms
I couldn’t reach my own back
freefalling, base camp
welling up to greet me
from the depths of a tar pit
but the thing about rock bottoms is:
if they don’t destroy you
they give you something solid to stand on.

And if you leap back up, spread eagle
Like a petrified starfish, swim through that tar pit
that is ocean, the warm hovel of under the covers,
Bonfire, whiskey in the back of an old sailors throat,
All natural cigarette,
You can be born again. I promise.

Depression is not sadness, it is the absence of hope
And it is numb. Reduces us to ashes and drowns us all at once.
But it waxes and it wanes, burns itself out if you let it.

And from that flame, scattered splinters in the ocean,
The shedding of my cracked, nymphal exoskeleton,
I understood the impermanence and necessity of flailing tendrils
White hot curling up a mainmast like a handshake
Wet flesh in the womb of moment between sleep and wake,
Breath slipping away like low tide
Gasping for air until it’s easier to ****
Oxygen out of the saltwater in your lungs
Pain killed a boy and made a man

Watch a phoenix **** a baptism
Violently conjure steam into existence
Just for it to disappear, watch them smile.
You’ll understand.

It is angel impact bullwhip vivid
Stampede fingers landscape obedient
Jail bust escape laughing run
Spillway thought stream fuzzy essence
UGG boot toe tubs and water stings
Earthquake tyrant Celsius fools
Pin lake petrol ice filled deserts
Spiky flames in outer space
Sculpture freak show withering exhibit
Fathom emergency breathe and ****
Nut shell gorillas invisibly cracked
Cow fed nirvana BBC
Shades of zero audio cauldron
Same vein madness virus mansion
Culinary horror infection procedures
Geyser rich nutrient pea-pod turmoil

over 18 adult ****** content

Admitted?
There they go again at it like there’s no tomorrow
Maybe they know something we don’t
Listen to her shriek and scream while they ****
And I hear their bed collapse as he jumps from the wardrobe

The crack of a bullwhip is there connecting to naked flesh
I pity but envy what they’re doing pleasure with pain
They’re both sharing a journey together while I’m alone
I want to join them before the world ends
All they can say is No right?

Maybe I’ll be admitted and feel their whip
And get to *** inside his mistress
It’s better than watching old TV reruns
I’ll put on my t shirt and shorts then call round

I feel desire and list my **** is hard as I hear
His mistress devilishly shout and scream
I want some of that fun right now
I knock on their door and wait…

Scuzzy film on a scalding riptide,
Bare sinew woven like scaffolding,
Catcalling as warm-and-fuzzies
Mince by like so many exposed marble legs
Passing construction sites.
Crimped by a polaroid viewfinder,
I sit alone and click-click-click
With folded memories in my pocket.

Let me just set the record straight:
I’m still in love with our contrails,
But you can go **** yourself.
We were helter-skeltering kids
Rivulets of caustic devotion
Sweltering down our skeletons,
Fly away with me again, please
I’m seeing synonyms for you
In every ally-cat hymnal
This gutter throat can sputter out
Seeing scarecrows bound by wicker muscles
Shivering in a windfarm
Powered by all those doors you slammed
Snapping together like worn
Rubber bands warm summer hands --
Dance with me, you were
The most perfectly human
I've ever felt.

Is that Listerine rolling out of your mouth
In waves of empty bottles once meant for me?
Off of your shoulders like a cape,
A swindler, eyeing you
Like you’re trying to sell me cutlery.
Exchange glances that are
Trailmix crumbling between couch cushions,
Rubbing shoulders with waspy relief,
Tendrils of comfort had me gripped by the biceps
Spread eagle like a petrified starfish
Till I lashed out at you with bullwhip arms
Because my own back had been too hard to reach lately,  

Mirrored
Ad Infinitum.
Your tongue looks like a mirror,
Stick it out at me,
We always did look more than alright together
People stared on the subway,
Called us starry-eyed without a trace of irony.
Back in the day when you made me happier
Than something I don’t even have a metaphor for,
Just happy. Happy needs no metaphors.

I still check my reflection every once in a while
Never know if we’ll collide again anyway,
Best to be prepared but instead I
Drift aimfully towards a catacomb of eyelash wishes
And equally corny ******* I never believed in,
Still don’t,

It was getting at us, though,

Rubbing sandy fists down to the core
Instead of holding hands
Crunchy apple shell
Skin friction,
Bite the seed,
1,000 angry pomegranate teeth,
Chapped lips like crustacean shells,
Aligned like eye-freckles
Me looking like an unused punching bag,
You somewhere off in the distance,
A fading marble of plasticine light
On my wavering horizon.

Because yeah, you broke my ******* heart
You were novacane cruel and selfish
And so immature it stunned me
But you also taped it back into my chest
On the day we met so I guess we’re even.

It’s funny, already I can’t quite remember your voice,
the shape of my name in your mouth,
how you laughed,
but every word  you ever said
is still carved onto the back of my hand
like a roadmap towards all the ways
you showed me how to love myself.

Still rubbing them away with your scalding riptide,
All those words you said about forever,
Now just shackles,
So gladly did I submit to yours,
I still hate those ornery devices
Even now when,
They’re curled at my feet
Like broken wings.

and the unconditional love and the humility
that it takes, to stand naked with **** erected
and to be whipped,long and hard and loveingly,
with a custom 3 foot signal whip.
The welcome 500 to 700 lashes
laid upon my naked back and buttocks,
vigoriously and lovingly by my twin flame,
that take me beyond any adrenal blockage
imposed by mind and conditioned identity.
Ah the warm comfort of ******.
"Just warming up" she giggles, then takes
her custom 2 foot bullwhip and give the shaft
of my stiff wobbling and bobbing **** 65 carefully
aimed and oh so stinging strokes,
the tip of the whip painfully flicking my shaven *****
on each stroke,
and like a proper slave I say"thank you Mistress" after each
stinging burning stroke.
And then I slide the full length of my stiff and burning shaft
into the unconditionally loving cool and soft fragrant moisture
of her beingnesss
and am absorbed instantly  without a trace.
I burn in multi colours.
I am two in one.
I am one in two.
I am a Lava Lamp!!!.
Do you have the discipline to deep nasally breathe your way into the maximum Adrenalin flow that comes as a result of the sadomasochistic ****** way of breaking your lifelong Adrenal suppression?.

. tiky torches, and not football hooligan red flares?! i want gnashing teeth.... the red worm... i want the crude.... waiting feud!

you, don't, make,
dictum, in, this,
part, of, the world!
nein!
   you, can, have,
your women!
but, not, the, ego,
of males!
*******, and your
colonialist past
rewrite!
*******...
dr. dre, ******!
so no, what becomes
musicological
click-bait?!
     ****** ****** yo **?!
  ******* term
gets... owned?!
       like vomito *****,
making reference
to the black plague?!
   you do your ****** bit,
i do mine...
and we meet in the middle...
and then...
we crash and burn...
   for whatever it's worth...
now catch me petting
rottweilers...
heavy headed
craniums...
   ready to bullwhip
a gnash of a raiding bullish
cranium head-****...
  just, gagging,
to perform,
the jaw-swapping gnash!
sure... big, bogus,
jaw dropping crude...
of a count of teeth...
   but...
    i'm itching...
itching to fasten onto a feast
    of a fist;
not in eastern europe, ******...
    you come here...
you play by our rules...
the whole
              anti-rap...
the whole
       hip hop scene of Warsaw...
   no, not really...
i'm not exactly
part of either, "scene"...
god...
  i haven't even allowed myself
to use edgy words...
    girl worth a *****...
but to succumb to motherhood?
i'm a heavy drinker,
i'm not exactly the moralizer;
wrap up, clean the ****-show...
and forget i even
managed to circumstance
a narrative.

As fridge-rator to beer in the head between the ears adorned with flashy widgets with which to trap the hoes he hopes that he can pull into his poles. His gravity whips wide so hands find and feel up erthing that gots the tail, he wants to rail so hands out he walks and tilts to one side and back holding his glass. ******* limp around the rim, dipping his fingertips into the juice like he wants to dip into you, pinkies as he holds your head forcing you to **** like you want his come as much as he wants to come. Then when done zips up, runs out, "***** sayonara", switch rerun mode without emotion. He floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.

Head on the couch back making tired, one eye open scoping everyone's glow as they move, when up he comes sittin in my face, spittin what he thinks I want him to say, I'm like, "****, guy control that tongue, you spray like that always I'm afraid I won't take that wild ****, as tool is to you as to yo *****." Right ******* ****** spittin harder in the lean up perhaps the lead up to fist flung to react. "Man you too loose, I gotta tell you, I've got just what you do." "Your uh ******?" Man watch ya flavor of language, I got just enough ****** left to get hard and stomp you, heel first in boots bought to stomp, pre-emptive to deal with the bullwhip effect where first you droolin to **** me, then retract like a bowstring because my ***** resembles a ****. "What you want, *****? You wan **** this **** for real?" (For real?) He floatin. He floatin. He floatin the room, he ghosting.

Lick my lips, cept it's not a tongue. For this purpose it's strobe lights, in light show, and like snow, black and white between sheets of plastic TV screen on get settled into my flow, rip back and forth like prongs on a fork on your ******* blindfolded and scolded right angle, bent like an L-shape repenting for **** by taking the ******, flash cards, held up on headboards, trying to teach you metrics and standards lacking in you to tune you into the lifestream, no empathy and no tact to show, remember this hell well while you sail through life preying, I'm praying and making marks in meat coats. But he floatin. He floatin. He gloatin.

Smoke from my pipe
Cracked like a leather bullwhip
Broadcast from my upper lip
Southern man will be my mantle
And close quarter’s cotton, a stand still

My black skin helps reject the sun

Smoke from my cigar
Was liberated like a quiet /-pluck-\of a plant
That I choose when to release
Sothern man will soon dismantle
And still I stand in the master’s handle

Scruffy and unkempt,
The manic look of someone who's stayed up 36 hours.
Still drove 10 hours for a bunch of strangers.
Had no idea what you were getting into.

A chance greeting of "Hello New Friend!",
The taking of an empty seat.
You had never cracked a bullwhip--I know, 'cause you confessed it.
Your mad scientist brain instantly found the perfect chemistry:
Bad jokes and photography.

A bit of flirting.
"I'm not looking for anything right now".
Still talking by the campfire at dawn,
Arms wrapped round for warmth.

You shoved your number in my pocket,
Hot pink marker scrawled on a scrap of paper.

Phone calls and g-chat.
Mostly **** jokes and bad music references.
Some serious stuff too..
Confessions--you're more 'you' around 'me'.

Midnight and both of us complaining-- not getting enough sleep.
Stretching it out until 1 AM, 2 AM, 3...
Left each other with squid-diddled desirous tentacles,
Havoc on our senses.
Senseless at work.

And you're actually being honest--don't have the backbone to lie.
You're not greedy, or sleezy, or trying to use me.
Course, you're killing me with those unsigned divorce papers...

No dreamer--realistic.
But ****** if you don't hit every weak spot.
Walls broken, just the hint of a smile.
**** good thing there's a few hundred miles between us.

Black and hell and triple ****..
..I miss you...
When are you coming back?

In my time, I learned of wasted prosperity,
wasted production,
time spent destroying unsold goods.

All we were saying, we say as well once more,
give peace a chance, we all were dissuaded,
we all were led to this, we followed… we all did,
none among the numbers related to my mito mom,
knew how far mortals can see using knowledge,
the stuff in the Platonic form of science,
the tree, and all the fruit of the tree
which is in itself, ipsa sapientia

from former time,
I learn of earning daily bread
I learn of waking ready as known
I learn of patterns proving order
I learn of the flickt wrist whip act

Crack the whip. eh, knack is not knowing
how  it happens, knack is knowing
how to make it happen, knowing the effect
-- shh specter of spinoza- snap
pay attention, this is amusement, not folly,
affectionally called the crack of the whip,
or finger and thumb,
hear it, not feel it, know it means, quiet
listen
-crack of the bat

snaps the ear of any near enough to hear it,
and know that is not the sound
of a cat correcting a sailor's needless will,
breaking the boy, oh, yeah,
we seen it done, on TV,
we seen the boss punish the shirker,
we seen the pioneers take son's
to the woodshed,

rod for back of the fool,
whip to call attention to the snap, look up,
stand straight, and tall, upright,

faulter, find mine, whip me into shipshape,
saint's and land's sakes alive
all ye truth teller alliegiance pledgers,
be ready to face all the reasons war holds.

The commit-ed-tee, apart from any we, I'm in.
Mittere, carry the signal, be gone,
as we say, so be it,
amen,
launching prayers for fulfillment of our
godgiven heart's desires, yessirree

the history of our current we, the people
of earth, cognosticators of the cloud of all books,
articles, poems, songs, blogs, and posted memes;
-all searchable to original con-text captured expression.
So, that all being true,
it seems, we are the aftermath of all before now,
today, while it is called Hueta, or whatever, this time
between sunsets,
whiling away - amusing my minds imaginary board
of advisors, it is permissible to say, videlicet, viz.

the rule of law, is fulfilled
in that which truth
makes free, as free can be,
on the only one choice planet,
when it comes to living like a mankind creature.
- all who read these words can, that is special
Common gnosis, letters form words we all read.

Let letters serve as sounds, silently singing to you,
I am a ware, a functioning self-forming will to be,
a thought, or a wish, or a prayer,
come be, being seen
as that which lets until it be taken
out of the way.

Posited points. {the box of all gods thoughts}
Laws of the Medes and Persians, oaths to truth.

Mighy men of valour and reknown, completely
known, first error of the mother, secured by a god.

Then there were the promises, all the desires
in the heart of our kind, available in story form,
since ever ago, in the beginning,

we made words, letters let us know, with music,
whistles and cracks, and snaps, and claps, and stomps.

LOUD likka lightning sound, some three claps ago,

Boom come a roaring down the canyon,
echoing off my walled in self, hermit me,
ever learning, never coming to the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth,
so help me God,
' assume you are in my taxonomy, then
assume we have relegated the affects of tehkne
in extending our vision in to the imagined realms

we have seen the insides of our bodies, our own,
heart's pulse, our own colon's polyps, stripped
of flora and fauna, for the procedure.

We know oh so, oso, a bear totem load, more
than any super position non universal intelligence,
among the elohim, the plurality of spirit beings,
mentioned in the beginning
of the part of this story with this story in it.

---------- I always wished to be a writer,
but, I knew, I wasn't, really, I knew,
and then I became what I was at my core,
you know, a life unlived, is not worth the exam fee.
So, it stood to reason with me, that truth,
known makes free the use of that known,

no lie makes truth, it finds truth and twists it,
much as men find flax and form from that linen,
and from linen spin near everlong thread,
from distaff to spindle, a line,
on another, each
make a reason to wonder, shine it in the sunlit
spider kite, gleaming reason to wonder, how
anybody ever learned to make priests garments,
on contract, I mean,
somebody makes the uniforms to signal symbios-us,
we who let letters be taken out of the way
and we listen to the thinking thought way

to go
slow
jell-o air, breathe and find template con fi
density commonly sensed as we

like on TV, those people, on all the channels,
even YouTubers, et al, okeh, we
are who we imagine we are
as seen on TV, but mmm some of us read,

and we cheat,
we let go the letters on the page,
bookshelves stuffed backdrop
to signify power and authority to make right use
of all the potential
attained with a little will to access the actual science
in our collective unconscience, yes, happy

state real, as el camino real, amigo, we be
of one mind,
most of the time.

They tell us to see the sun in the winter
get your gun to get your dinner
there's only one who can be winner
so have fun as a sinner.

A ******* bullpit
echoes the bully pulpit
cracking a bullwhip
as a cruel gift.

There's a royal decree
in the soil we seed
wearing oily greaves
we boil and bleed.

The pinniped's frigid bed
dwindled when the cynic said
his withered glen is more important than
the arctic shed and hearts that bled.

The highlands seem endearing
when islands are disappearing
and the godmen are hearing
no reasons to be weary.

Some run to the hills
some run to the pills
others turn to the thrill
of the blood we spill.

Our only answer is running
from our controller's cunning
it's almost like they're hunting
by not solving this one thing.

I always knew when she was irritated with me-
her ears would start to lower until they were parallel with the floor
like the wings of an airplane, attached to the fusilage
She would then start swishing her tail
like a lion-tamer's bullwhip-
and she won't blink!
I wish my wife would stop doing that. It embarrasses the cat!
copyright" richard riddle 05-04-15

Fools Gold
Looks just like a
Bud Nug
Blatant

Bold,
And Beautiful
By far
The fire marks had been gone
But continue to Bathe it

"You have a way with 'em"
To be straight
Im still holding the
poker chips,
the bullwhip,
Or whichever
Fill in the blank rhymes
Fit best

I am beating the meat
Out of this machine
Wish it leaked quarters
But it never does

Not so easy being a Street ***..
Being a being...
Being a ligament above the rest
Another rung to climb tirelessly
Until we hit the exit sign

Part 2
__
Until we hit the exit sign
Don't just be baiting yourself
.......
You DUMB *****
I like the way you hold that pencil girl
So sent/i/men/tal
So long
so so so much
Suf/er/ring
A piece of a larger sheet
A piece of a larger sheet

Part and parcel
Be Brief
and cut to the credits please
Read those 'Solid Instructions
To Self Destruct'
Must obstruct justice

No
Must uphold justice
DUH
Go for it
Hit the kick drum

Dumb it down all day
We not just
"All Play"
Aye can you see it in my bravery?
The way I play hide and seek
With my shadows
And force them to show
Themselves

Right in front of the
Sun's Rays
Son, Raise
your right hand
And swear upon this pyrite
That you won't Take
Time
For granted

Anymore......

reward your beast--
but love him dear.
keep your bullwhip
always near.

for at a feast
or in the field
a beast is eyeing up his meal

and yes right now!
to your chagrin...
your love has met the beast within.

there's a leg
ooh! there's an arm
and what could that be?
love, dis-armed.

I was a black man by the name
of, Frank Embree, crying endless
oceans of hope and freedom
from my enemies, wishing that they
could find peace and love within
their existence, to stop the oppression
and ongoing sessions of vast
lynching's as the white mob
ceased me, accused me of ******
a 14-year-old girl.  Then savagely
attacking me, castrating me,
forcing me to eat my shriveled *****
and ***** like a bloodthirsty dog,
cursing my name, driving me
insane, handcuffed, stripped naked,
whipped 103 times with a bullwhip
without no remorse, 50 more times
just for the hell of it.  Epic explosions
were erupting, my skin sinking,
extremely bleeding, frustrating
sensations ******* with my subconscious
cutthroat verbs circling me, crazed
consonants swirling in the air
as I stared all around me, taking
in the amplified hatred, the color
of my flesh a scorching story shot up,
blazed in flames, rising smoke fogging
up my soul.